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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29008917">Batman and the Extremely Long Title (Batman, Catwoman, and the Mystery of the Disappearing Gotham Women)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Born2read/pseuds/Born2read'>Born2read</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Batcat [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Life with Derek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>BatCat, Batman AU, Edwin Venturi - Freeform, F/M, Lizzie McDonald - Freeform, Marti Venturi - Freeform, Paul Greebie - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:20:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,607</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29008917</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Born2read/pseuds/Born2read</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Catwoman, who is really Casey, is into Batman, who is really Derek, who is into Casey, who is Catwoman.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Casey McDonald/Derek Venturi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Batcat [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128092</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Dasey Holiday Fic Exchange - 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Batman and the Extremely Long Title (Batman, Catwoman, and the Mystery of the Disappearing Gotham Women)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enx2103/gifts">Enx2103</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Gotham Art Museum | Wednesday, March 28, 2018 | 12:09PM</em>
</p><p>Leaning, she stared around the corner, squinting through her goggles. The night vision was on, casting everything in a greenish glow. She heard the security guard's approach before she saw him, but soon enough, he came into view. This, in her opinion, was the least savory part about her business. Unfortunate, but <em>necessary</em>. He never noticed the woman decked in black leather, hiding out in the darkened corner as he passed by. With preternatural reflexes, Catwoman leaped from the shadows onto the security guard's back; immediately, her legs wrapped around his middle, one arm tightening around his neck and the other squeezing his shoulder. From this position, she caught a flash of his nametag, reading it upside down: Dave.</p><p>It wasn't long before Dave was unconscious.</p><p>After that, the rest of her heist went smoothly. It had been almost easy getting into the museum and stealing the Rembrandt that had been delivered just this afternoon. Maybe she felt a modicum of guilt at cutting a classic piece of art from the frame, but Emily already had a paying customer lined up for it, and how else was she supposed to get it out of the museum. It would be a bit difficult to sneak back out of the museum with a cumbersome rectangle strapped to her back <em>and</em> keep it safe. As it was, the parchment tube she'd rolled the canvas into had added a level of difficulty to her job.</p><p>She managed to make it home around three in the morning with no sign of the Bat. No longer dressed as Catwoman, Casey McDonald let herself into her apartment, trying to stifle the disappointment. She should be glad at a successful job. An encounter with Batman would have complicated her theft, maybe even prevented her from succeeding. And yet… It was a missed opportunity to see him, and seeing Batman was something she stupidly looked forward to.</p><p>As she lay in bed that night, trying to get a few hours of sleep before she had to be up in the morning, Casey wondered where he'd been and what he'd been doing. She thought she'd taunted him just enough that he would be able to find her. Had there been another criminal that had caught his attention? She shook her head, trying to shake away the thoughts of a jealous girlfriend, and before she fell asleep that night, her last conscious thought was that Batman had probably been out doing Batman things.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Batcave | Wednesday, March 28, 2018 | 7:15PM</em>
</p><p>"No. Absolutely not."</p><p>Stomping her foot, Marti's lower lip jutted out in a pout—one reminiscent of Casey's; it was something she'd taught his baby sister and a lesson the youngest Venturi had learned well. Most days, the little pout worked on him. This time, however, he'd willingly endure her wrath. "Why not?"</p><p>"Because it's dangerous."</p><p>"Derek, I've been training so hard!"</p><p>"I said no." He shook his head, rubbing his eyes. It's too dangerous."</p><p>Her pout turned into a deep frown, eyebrows drawing in. She'd gone from attempting manipulation to anger in such a short span. "You let Edwin go even though it's dangerous."</p><p>"This is different—and before you ask, no, it isn't a gender thing," Derek promised. "I don't want him near this either."</p><p>"He likes that Catwoman flirts with him," Edwin said from his spot in Derek's chair. It was only allowed this time because he was busy monitoring Derek's several large screens set up on the desk. Otherwise, Derek's—Batman's—chair was to remain empty. "He doesn't think she'll do it if you're there."</p><p>Marti scoffed. "As if I care about that." With perfect form, she punched through the air. "I just want to fight crime."</p><p>"This isn't about Catwoman." There had been plenty of chatter that she'd be robbing the Gotham Museum later tonight, but Derek had more significant concerns. Over the past couple of weeks, women in prominent positions throughout Gotham had been going missing, reappearing a few days later and acting as if nothing had happened like it was all a big misunderstanding. That was what he planned to investigate. Belatedly, he thought to add, "And I don't like that she's flirting with me."</p><p>Despite Edwin's insistence, Derek held no interest in Catwoman. There might be a slight physical attraction there—from what he could tell, she was conventionally attractive and knew how to handle her whip, which was… not the point—but that was the extent of his appreciation. His lack of interest didn't have anything to do with her being a criminal, either (although that was something Sam thought he ought to consider). Mostly, it stemmed from the fact that his heart lay elsewhere. Try as he might to not feel anything for Her, he couldn't make it stop, despite not seeing her for several months. How could he focus on a relationship with a thief who flirts with him when he couldn't get someone else out of his mind?</p><p>Though, maybe he did enjoy that she wanted to flirt with him, just a little bit, but not for the reasons Edwin thought. Being Derek Venturi, heir to Venturi Enterprises and Gotham's most eligible bachelor—the words of several magazines and newspapers, not his vanity speaking… this time—meant that a lot of women flirted with him. Good looks and money attract attention, the kind he didn't usually get as Batman—even ignoring that he generally stuck to the shadows. As Batman, he'd encountered the average woman, and they did not react to him the same way they did to Derek; it was refreshing. However, Catwoman was clearly interested in him as Batman, not knowing if he had wealth or power. Maybe his vanity was speaking here, but Derek liked to think that she flirted with him, not to distract him or to get something from him, but because she wanted to. He found it strangely flattering.</p><p>"If it's as dangerous as you say, all the more reason we should come with you." Edwin dropped his feet off the table—a habit he'd picked up from Derek, but one he did not like when it was someone else's feet on his desk. "The more danger there is, the more backup is necessary."</p><p>"The more people involved," Derek shot back, gesturing to Marti as a prime example, "the more likely we are to get caught."</p><p>"I would have found you eventually, even if Edwin hadn't been involved. Besides, look where that got you." She sniffed. "You call it the Batcave. What are you? A comic from the thirties?"</p><p>Miffed, Derek blinked back at her. Maybe he had read too many comics growing up, but did she have to call him on it? "What should I call it, then, oh wise one?"</p><p>She shrugged, turning away from him. "Too late to consult me. Now you have to live with it."</p><p>Wandering around, she went to where their uniforms were. After much pestering, wheedling, and finally the silent treatment, Derek had a costume made for Marti. Sam had shaken his head the entire time they worked on it. Derek had started out claiming that he wanted neither of them involved, and here they were. If he had his way, they would be ignorant of the whole affair and wouldn't get involved in the mess. However, Derek had needed Edwin's help, figuring out some of the tech stuff, and not long after, Marti had stumbled across the secret entrance. There was no keeping either of them out after that point had been next to impossible. When Marti had started training, so had Edwin. He started complaining that sitting behind the screens was boring and they could both help him. Derek had been outnumbered and outmatched.</p><p>Now, they both had costumes neatly sitting on their mannequins. The image terrified Derek, but the whole thing had since spiraled out of his control. Sometimes he woke up from nightmares of one or both of them dressed in their uniforms, dying in some horrific manner.</p><p>"Why make this if you won't let me wear it?"</p><p>"I—" Derek palmed his face, groaning. "You'll get a chance to wear it, just not for this. Okay?"</p><p>"Derek, please."</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Please."</p><p>And, because Derek was the Dark Knight, the strong fearsome protector of Gotham, he eventually caved, allowing Edwin to come along as he took Marti on her first round of patrols.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Ashley and Michael’s Venue Hall | Saturday, March 31, 2018 | 6:02PM</em>
</p><p>“Casey?” Derek brightened and adjusted his tie as he stepped away from Mr. and Mrs. Moneybags. A conversation with them could never hold a candle to the possibilities that a conversation with Casey held. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”</p><p>This wasn’t the type of place that Casey usually wound up. It worked out because as badly as Derek wanted to see her, it was also best if he didn’t. He tried to recall the last time they had intentionally spent any <em>real</em> time together. Too long, but balancing friendships with his current workload and nightlife was impossible. Keeping Casey safe and away from his secret identity would have been even harder if they had maintained their friendship. The funeral, maybe, was the last time they’d planned to spend time together. That had been over a year ago. Since then, every encounter had been by accident; their circles, however, had been crossing a lot more lately. It had been a couple of months since the last time Derek had run into her. Casey’s hair had grown out a little since then. She looked good; her hair, gently curled, hung loosely at her shoulders, and she was dressed in a dark, floor-length dress that hugged her curves--the same curves he used to daydream about.</p><p>Casey’s eyes widened at the sound of her name, but she seemed entirely unsurprised that he would be here. “Derek.” There had been a time in their weirdly intertwined lives when there was always warmth in her voice when saying his name. Now, he could only detect a hint of that familiar warmth, like a distant memory similar to the fading warmth after a sip of a hot drink. “How are you?”</p><p>Things between them used to be simple. Easy. She had been his best friend at one point. The rift between them now--the awkwardness in every conversation--was a problem of his own making. It was a decision Derek stood by, too, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a sting deep in the pit of his stomach when she spoke to him like he was barely above an acquaintance. “Good, good.” Embarrassingly, his voice cracked like he was back in school going through puberty. His answer, too, came too quickly, too eager, stepping over the question as it often did when he was talking about something he was excited about--or when talking to Casey for the first time in months. Did she remember that about him? “How are you? What are you doing here?”</p><p>“I--”</p><p>“Casey,” a voice interrupted, “there you are.” Max Miller, Gotham’s Assistant District Attorney, slid an arm around Casey’s shoulders, tugging her into his side. Something shifted in her eyes (annoyance, discomfort… something; gone was the time where Derek could read the subtlest change in her expression), but her smile remained perfectly pleasant.</p><p>The only real consolation for Derek was Casey’s tone holding a smidge less warmth for Max than it had for Derek (although, that could be his imagination) when greeting her <em>date</em> for the evening. “You’re here,” Derek answered his own question, “with Max.”</p><p>“Yeah!” Max flashed his too-white teeth at Derek.</p><p>They, too, ran in similar circles. Even before he’d joined the DA’s office, Max, like Derek, had been born into a wealthy family. Unlike Derek, he was the only child of his (still-living) parents and his playboy persona was not an act. They’d never really gotten along.</p><p>With more tact than Derek wished for, Casey shrugged out from underneath Max’s arm. This soothed the ache in Derek’s chest, but only slightly. “Max was kind enough to invite me; he’s been helping to fund the Youth Program so we’ve been working together a lot.”</p><p>The Youth Program was something else he and Max had in common. Max’s donations were loud, public, and the minimum amount to look good. Derek’s contributions from Venturi Enterprises and his private funds were done quietly, not for the publicity.</p><p>“He said that I deserved a reward for all the hard work I’ve been doing.” It was unlike Casey to accept such a reward for her work, but it had been too long since Derek was in a place to make any suggestions about the way Casey should live her life.</p><p>Max winked at Derek, as if the reward he wanted to offer her was something aside from an invitation to the gala. “Sure did. She works hard.”</p><p>The entire exchange made Derek feel sick to his stomach. He’d often thought that the dedication Casey showed to other aspects of life would translate to an intensity in the bedroom; he didn’t like that it seemed Max shared this opinion.</p><p>“I told him I don’t do it for the reward.” Her tone was light and teasing, even as she patted his arm. It was a gesture Derek recognized; Casey was keeping Max appeased and at a distance all at once.</p><p>Max started ushering Casey away, keeping her on the side away from Derek. “It was good seeing you,” he said, clearly speaking for the both of them, “but we should be taking our seats now.”</p><p>“Oh.” Was that disappointment Derek saw on her face? Perhaps it was wishful thinking again. “Okay, yeah.” Casey offered him a smile. “Nice to see you, Derek.” For a moment she hesitated, but then she allowed Max to lead her away.</p><p>The image of her walking away with Max Miller struck a chord somewhere deep inside of him. Unbidden, words rose up from his gut to his throat, spilling from his mouth. “Wait, <em>please</em>.” It was a stupid, stupid request, but having her walk away from him <em>again</em> had already begun to eat away at him. “Save a dance for me?”</p><p>Her answering smile was unmistakably warm. “Sure, I can do that.”</p><hr/><p>Every time Casey saw Derek, it felt strange. Where they had once been close, a chasm of discomfort now existed between them. The man who stood before her was unrecognizable. A stranger. The death of their parents had been hard on both families; she supposed, maybe, they had dealt with it in different ways. Derek had closed himself off, gone back to his old ways of parading around different girls every time he was in public (her eyes had already scanned the crowd, trying to place who might be here with him this evening). Meanwhile, Casey had turned to a life of crime.</p><p>It paid the bills, though.</p><p>They were coping, but the distance Derek had placed between them--because it had been entirely him until Casey had given up--pained her.</p><p>Agreeing to a dance with Derek was risky. Max was supposed to be her focus tonight, as was the game she was running. If she let herself get distracted (it was always far too easy to get sucked into Derek when they interacted), all the work she’d been putting in would turn out to be a waste. It was just that when he said please--a word Derek Venturi said so rarely, even when they were best friends slotted to become step-siblings--Casey thought she caught a glimpse of the old Derek, and how could she say no to that? She could put a con on hold for <em>one</em> dance with an old friend.</p><p>Just as Casey had started to think Derek wouldn’t follow up on his request (at this stage, she wouldn’t have been entirely surprised), the music changed to a song she recognized. Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the soft smile from settling on her face when he approached. The style was different than what the band had played throughout the evening, and there he stood offering his hand. “May I have this dance?”</p><p>“You requested this song,” she accused, even as she settled her hand into his.</p><p>“Maybe.”</p><p>It wasn’t <em>their</em> song--you can’t really have <em>a</em> song with someone you’ve never actually dated--but it was as close as they could get. There were times back then that Casey used to think Derek was <em>It</em> for her, but their situation had been complicated and she’d never been sure that he reciprocated. Then, there had been the accident.</p><p>Now, however, there was Batman to consider. Granted, he wasn’t really an option; two diametrically opposed foes, they weren’t in a position to get in a relationship. Add in that they both had secret identities, and the whole thing was more complicated than potentially being in love with your soon-to-be stepbrother. But there was, undeniably, chemistry between Catwoman and Batman, even if he refused to admit it. Any heat that she felt between herself and Derek, any electricity that sparked between them when Casey’s hand touched his, was simply residual from their history.</p><p>It meant nothing.</p><p>Casey gave him a hard look. “Yes, I did. If we’re going to share only one dance, I thought it should have meaning.”</p><p>Brows arching upward, she studied him. He didn’t--<em>couldn’t</em>--mean it the way it sounded. It had always been Casey interested. Nothing Derek had ever done or said had ever indicated he might feel something for her the way she felt for him. “What kind of meaning do you want to attach to this dance, Derek?” If she had been wearing her Catwoman costume, the question might have come out with more of a lilt; light and flirty. Instead, she couldn’t keep the note of accusation out of her voice, though she certainly tried. After the accident, Derek had been nowhere to be found. By now, she’d let go of most of the anger, understanding that he was likely coping in his own way. The pain from the abandonment, however, was a lot harder to drop.</p><p>Thankfully, Derek had always been good at keeping the tone of a conversation light when she accidentally tried to steer it in a serious direction. “The kind of meaning that says, ‘Casey, what are you doing here with <em>Max Miller</em>?’” He screwed up his face, shaking his head at her.</p><p>She laughed. “Jealous, are we?”</p><p>His hand flexed on her waist, squeezing her lightly. It sent a jolt through her. If she didn’t know better, Casey would think that maybe he <em>was</em>.</p><p>Derek let out a chuckle. “Immensely.”</p><p>“It’s nothing serious.” Old habits die hard; Casey had always been quick to let Derek know of her availability. The change now was her adding, “My affections lie elsewhere.” Mostly, she didn’t want him to think that she was at the stage in her life where Max Miller was what she wanted in a relationship.</p><p>It was his turn for his eyebrows to shoot up, accompanied by a frown. “Oh?”</p><p>For a brief moment of insanity, Casey actually considered telling Derek about Batman, but then she might have to justify where those feelings come from, which she couldn’t do without explaining her interactions. This was followed by another bout of craziness where she contemplated telling him that she was Catwoman. Thankfully, both urges faded. “For me to know,” she said lightly.</p><p>“A mystery man.” Again, Derek kept his tone light, but he still wore a frown.</p><p>She snorted at the accuracy. “Something like that.”</p><p>It grew quiet between them. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence--even in the beginning when their relationship had been more contentious, having space between their words had never been awkward. Except when they were in a fight, but when that happened their words came quick and sharp with hardly room to breathe between them.</p><p>“Derek,” Casey leaned back to look at him after a small spin. “What happ--” Her question was cut off by a tap on Derek’s shoulder.</p><p>“Mind if I cut in.” Once again, Max had interrupted them; once again, Casey had nearly forgotten he existed. He smiled between the pair of them, but she noticed it was less than friendly when directed at Derek.</p><p>For his part, Derek immediately dropped his hands and took a step back like touching her burned him. He wouldn’t meet Casey’s eyes. “Not at all.” He offered Casey a quick bow before turning on his heel, striding away. She tried to figure out where the sudden coldness had come from.</p><p>“You looked like you needed rescuing,” Max said, stepping into Derek’s place, effectively drawing her attention back to him. Though extremely handsome, Casey felt a strange sense of loss with the ill-fitting replacement. Their hands didn’t fit together in quite the same way.</p><p>“Did I?”</p><p>After that, the party turned out to be a bit of a bore. The food was passable but the music, lively. The company at their table left a bad taste in Casey’s mouth, but it hardly mattered seeing as she wasn’t there to enjoy the gala. Sometimes, you just have to grin and bear it.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Luxury Suites Apartment - Penthouse | Saturday, March 31, 2018 | 9:43PM</em>
</p><p>“Something to drink?” Max led the way into his apartment backward. It was a nice place; a spacious penthouse. The ultimate bachelor pad, judging by the state of things, like the foosball table set up in the living room behind the couch. Over the course of the party, Max had several drinks and was pretty drunk already. He didn’t need another drink. If Casey were actually looking for some action this evening, she was already guaranteed a disappointing evening, and probably wouldn’t have encouraged all of the drinks he had.</p><p>Thankfully, Casey had no intention of hopping on that lack-of-a-thrill ride. She smiled sweetly at Max, nudging the door with her foot and taking care to lock up behind her. “Point me in the right direction, and I’ll get it for us. You,” she let her gaze wander down to the front of his pants, “go and get comfortable.”</p><p>Grinning, Max gestured to his bar area--honestly, a whole bar set up near the living room--and made his way to the massive couch. Casey watched him, waiting until his attention was diverted. Having spent two years working as a bartender, making two drinks at home was fairly easy. If she wanted to get fancy, it might take a minute and doing the tumbler spin wasn’t as intuitive as it used to be, but she’d have been able to manage. However, at this point Casey preferred to keep Max’s attention off of her, so she kept it quick and simple. Unscrewing two small tubes from her dangling earrings, she dumped most of the contents into the three open bottles of alcohol and the rest went into both glasses. She gave them both a quick stir before joining Max on the couch, letting him pick his glass.</p><p>“Cheers.”</p><p>“Cheers!” Max clinked his glass against hers, tipping the cup back for a large swallow. Switching the glass to his other hand, he started feeling up the inside of her thigh with his now free hand.</p><p>Keeping her tone light and teasing, Casey gently nudged his hand away, pretending to sip from her drink--a trick Derek had taught her, once upon a time when they were friends. “None of that.”</p><p>Max pouted around another swallow. “But--”</p><p>“I’m going to take care of <em>you</em> tonight.” Setting her cup aside, Casey swung onto his lap in one fluid motion.</p><p>“Oh.” He brightened.</p><p>“Mhm.” When Max tipped his glass back, Casey helped, using the tip of her finger to keep the cup to his lips until he’d finished the last drop. When it was empty, she set it aside, cupped his face, and leaned in to kiss him.</p><p>Casey did not have to suffer through the kiss long. Between all the alcohol he’d consumed at the party and the mixture Casey had bought off in a dark alley, it wasn’t long before Max’s head rolled back and he let out a soft snore. Once she was sure he was asleep, she climbed from his lap, donned a pair of cleaning gloves he had under the sink, and went to work.</p><p>There wasn’t a lot of jewelry, but that was generally heavy and hard to sell once stolen; she’d expected it and it wasn’t a huge loss, though she did manage to find a few expensive watches. Max, however, had plenty of cash lying around. His safe--she snorted, frustrated at how easy this was--sat wide open. Aside from his passport, Casey wiped out all of it’s contents. There were several art pieces scattered around the apartment, and she took what she knew she could carry. Art, too, could be hard to sell, but Emily could usually manage it.</p><p>When everything she wanted and could carry had been gathered up, Casey went onto the balcony. Strapped to the side of it, just beneath the railing, she’d prepared and strapped a bag. She dumped the contents of her haul into this bag, setting it aside. Taking her glass to the sink, she poured half of it down the sink before returning it to it’s spot, right on the ring it had already started leaving on the side table. Setting the rest of the scene would wait until she returned.</p><p>Back on the balcony, Casey strapped her bag to her back, removed her borrowed gloves, and prepared for a free climb. Climbing equipment was too bulky to hide ahead of time. The roof was too slanted to hide it up there, so climbing down was her best bet.</p><p>She took a deep breath before getting started. Casey had always been a fairly good climber with decent reflexes, but free-climbing was dangerous even for her--especially when she wasn’t wearing her suit. Sometimes it had to be done. She swung her leg over the railing of the balcony, lowered herself to the bottom of it, and dropped down on the balcony below. Her fingers nearly slipped once, setting her heart racing, but she managed to get her grip again, continuing her descent.</p><p>Once her feet were firmly planted on the ground, Casey dumped her bag into a hidden compartment in her car parked a few blocks over. Getting down had been fairly easy, as she’d largely stuck to going from balcony to balcony. Climbing back up, however, would be more difficult. The gap between balconies was too high for her to be able to reach and pull herself up. She’d have to actually climb. On the bright side, she didn’t have the bulky bag with her any longer, so it was only her weight she’d have to worry about. Thankfully, she’d done this climb the night when she’d left her bag behind, so she had an idea of what to expect and thirty minutes after leaving the penthouse, she was climbing back over the railing. She left the balcony doors wide open and with some effort, heaved Max’s arm over her shoulders to drag him to his bedroom. Getting him halfway undressed, she tucked him part of the way under the covers and went back to the living room. She screwed the tubes back onto her earrings, returned the gloves, double-checked that the deadbolt was locked on the front door, and went back to Max’s room, removing her clothes to a state of similar undress.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Luxury Suites Apartment - Penthouse | Sunday, April 01, 2018 | 8:45AM</em>
</p><p>The morning was chaos. Casey was awake before Max, but pretended to be asleep until he came to wake her. Max was, understandably, upset about being robbed. However, he was more horrified when Casey informed him that after they had made their way to the bedroom, he had a little trouble getting it up and soon passed out before they could get very far. Between the hangover and his embarrassment, Max didn’t push for further details and simply accepted the facts she gave him.</p><p>“Don’t tell anyone,” he insisted when she’d finished recounting the events of last night.</p><p>Casey frowned, blinking innocently at him. “That you were robbed?” Oh, if only that were it.</p><p>“No.” Max grabbed her hand, suddenly urgent. “”The other part. That we didn’t--that I couldn’t--” He couldn’t even form the words.</p><p>“<em>Oh</em>.” Casey hummed. “I’m a really terrible liar, especially when I’m hungover. Maybe…” she trailed off, pretending to think about it.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Well.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s for the best if no one knew that I was here. Then you wouldn’t have to explain what happened and you can just say you had a few too many and went to sleep, and I wouldn’t have to lie and say that we were awake for a while and were trying to have sex, but then you--”</p><p>He cut her off, considering her for a moment. He nodded. “Maybe.” There was no way that Max would want to risk her spilling it to the police--and by proxy, the public--that he couldn’t get it up and passed out, unable to hear when someone robbed his house.</p><p>They spent the next twenty minutes or so wiping her prints from everything Max knew she had touched--their glasses (where he saw her half empty cup, further solidifying her story), the bottle of vodka she’d used, and the locks on the front door. Then, Max went over everything they’d wiped down and put his fingerprints on it again, so they wouldn’t be wiped down. He washed her glass so there would only be one cup, wiped down the rings from the table, and then walked Casey out of the building, dropping the doorman some cash to say that he’d seen Max come home alone the previous evening.</p><p>Even if the doorman cracked and told the police that Casey had been with Max, he never would have seen her leave the building in the middle of the night to have left through Max’s front door. The climb up and down the apartment building did not look like one a sane person would attempt, let alone without proper equipment. Max could attest that no climbing equipment had been on his porch. All Casey had with her when she’d gone upstairs was her small clutch that could only fit her phone and keys, and the slim dress she’d worn to the party. Where would she have kept a harness, rope, and all the other necessities? If the police tested Max’s drinks, they’d find that the bottles had been drugged, not just Max’s drink. Even if Max decided that being drugged meant he didn’t have to be embarrassed about his failure to perform, he’d already lied to the police and he was smart enough to remember that Casey had drunk half her glass before she, too, “passed out” and the bottles would have the same substance. All of them, not just the one she’d conveniently grabbed. Why would she drug herself as well if she were going to steal from him? Not to mention she was there in the morning when he woke up, and had “struggled” to wake up.</p><p>Casey was covered whether or not Max decided to tell the police that she was there.</p><p>Feeling pretty pleased with herself, Casey gave his arm a small pat. “Good luck,” she said in a pitying tone. The other bonus was that it was unlikely he would <em>not</em> be calling her back for another date.</p><p>“Do you want me to call a cab?”</p><p>She shook her head. “No, I’m going to get some coffee down the street, and then I’ll get a ride after.”</p><p>“Okay.” Max nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. He eyed her for a moment, then stepped back from the doorway.</p><p>Casey couldn’t help but think that if it had been Derek, he would have insisted on making sure she made it home safely. Then again, this kind of plan would hardly have worked on him.</p><p>Deciding to skip the coffee--best not to be seen in the area as much as possible--Casey headed straight to her car and drove to see Emily.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Luxury Suites Apartments - Penthouse | Sunday, April 01, 2018 | 10:02AM</em>
</p><p>“What am I doing here?” Drek grunted, crossing his arms as he surveyed the scene. Max sat on his too large couch--not that Derek had much room to talk on the subject--face buried in his hands. An officer wandered the room, dusting for prints and eyeing the shadowy figure Derek presented out of the corner of her eye. He understood that he made some people nervous, but that was hardly his problem.</p><p>Detective Paul Greebie sighed, his gaze fixed on Max. “Several reasons. First, when the A.D.A. is robbed, you try and keep it under wraps as much as possible.”</p><p>Nothing more needed to be said on that count. For the last several years, the Gotham Police Department had been growing more and more corrupt. Even without questionable officers, few people could be trusted to keep their mouth shut regarding the details of a high profile case.</p><p>“Second, he asked for you specifically. Third, something about his story isn’t adding up, so I would have called you in regardless.” Greebie tore his gaze from Max to look at Derek. It always felt like he was trying to look through the mask, and though Derek knew it wasn’t possible he felt like maybe the detective knew who wore the suit. “Fourth, because it looks to be the work of Catwoman.” Paul gestured to the open balcony doors. We’ve lever everything as it was when we arrived, aside from evidence marking and dusting for prints. Lastly, because this is the fourth high profile theft like this. The M.O. has been different for each, but I’m confident they’re all related. So, either Catwoman or someone else is targeting the wealthy of Gotham; I wouldn’t be surprised if there are more. I’m willing to bet that Derek Venturi is also on the list, and given what Venturi Enterprises works on, I’m a bit worried about what someone might find in his home.”</p><p>Derek, too, worried about what someone trying to steal from him might find in his home. He would forever be grateful for the full face mask as it hid his surprise in that moment. “Surprised it hasn’t happened to him, yet,” he managed. Though, maybe he could offer himself up as bait.</p><p>“Maybe they’re working up to it. I’ve seen his mansion, and it’s more secure than a lot of these thefts.”</p><p>“Maybe.” Derek straightened up, striding toward the balcony. “Tell me about this break in. Why do you think it was Catwoman?”</p><p>“Mr. Miller came home from the gala last night--”</p><p>“Was he alone?” Derek cursed himself for asking too quickly, hoping Greebie would write it off as eagerness to solve the case.</p><p>“He says so.” There was a pause that made Derek think that Greebie didn’t quite believe him. “We’ll ask around to confirm, but for now he came home alone.”</p><p>Once again, the Batman mask hid Derek’s relief as Greebie continued.</p><p>“The door was locked from the inside, including the deadbolt. Says he double-checked in the morning. Anyway, Miller came home, poured himself a drink, stayed up for a bit, and went to bed. Said he might have had a little too much drink at the party, so he probably slept pretty heavily. When he woke up, the balcony doors were open. Looking at that climb, only two people come to mind as crazy enough to do it, and only one of them has the reputation of being a burglar.”</p><p>Still, Paul glanced sideways at Derek. Even after all that Batman had done for Gotham, there was still a lot of distrust from the community. Greebie, he knew, held a lot of trust for him, and was coming around to trusting him implicitly, but every now and then he questioned Batman’s motives. Derek didn’t blame him.</p><p>“I know I said the M.O. for each theft varied, but there is one thing that’s been consistent. Each theft has occurred within three days of a big event like last night’s gala.”</p><p>Leaning over the railing to look at the climb, Derek froze. “Were they all seen with the same person?” He felt panicked. As much as he strived to be objective, the idea of investigating Casey filled him with an immense sense of dread. For a moment, he thought he’d hurl all over the inside of his mask.</p><p>“Nah.” Paul shook his head. “Trevor was with his wife. They had a French woman with them as their guest, so we can maybe track her down to ask some questions. Noel had a date; I don’t have the name at the moment, but she was a blonde with brilliant blue eyes. Max was seen with Casey McDonald--I know her; she was in my at-risk Youth Group when she was a teen, and now she helps the program. It might be worth speaking to her, though, and see if she noticed anything at the party.”</p><p>Once again, the words flew from Derek’s mouth. “I’ll do it.”</p><p>“Sure.” Paul shrugged. “I’m going to see if I can get a message to Catwoman.”</p><p>“Why do you bother?”</p><p>Greebie shrugged. “Something tells me a lot of what she does--I just think, maybe, she can be helped. Remember the notes?”</p><p>When Catwoman first appeared on the scene, her first theft (that they were aware of) had been from a high end jewelry store. She’d taken quite a few pieces without setting off a single alarm. It had been impressive, aside from the fact that they were stolen. A few days later, a ring and necklace set that hadn’t belonged to the store--but rather to an elderly woman who’d had it in her family for generations--had shown up on Greebie’s desk in the precinct with a note that said “Sorry”. He’d been convinced of her potential for rehabilitation since, saying that the note reminded him of someone from his damn Youth Program, though he would never say who. Derek had tried to convince him that he couldn’t save everyone that went through that program.</p><p>He nodded. “Yeah, I remember.”</p><p>“If anything, I can usually tell if it’s her, even if she won’t take ownership. It’s worth trying to figure it out.”</p><p>“There was the museum job two days ago that was definitely her work,” Derek reminded him. “If she did this, I’m not so sure about your argument for rehab; it seems more like she’s ramping up.”</p><p>“You know about that?” Derek gave him a hard look and Greebie raised his hands. “You have your sources, I’m sure. Why weren’t you there?” He looked at Derek, slightly accusing.</p><p>“Working on something else.” Unfortunately, he couldn’t be everywhere at once, and he didn’t feel confident to send Ed out on his own, yet. He barely wanted to take Edwin and Marti along <em>with</em> him.</p><p>All across Gotham women in prominent positions or those married to people in prominent positions had started disappearing. They’d be gone for a few days at most, and when they returned, they weren’t themselves. Sandra Simmons was the first to disappear. When she returned, she acted like it was no big deal that she’d been driving home one moment, and her car had been found abandoned on the side of the road. A week after, she resigned from her position as the Gotham City planning director. All the while, she acted like everything was perfectly fine, and not in the way that someone does when they don’t want the media in their personal business. Derek had visited Sandra and her husband as himself, only to find that she was a little spaced out, a little off. She hadn’t been the same since her disappearance, but she claimed that she was fine, that it was all a misunderstanding. It wasn’t normal.</p><p>Sandra was the first, but a few others followed after. Derek was pretty certain that someone at GCPD was looking into it, but he wasn’t quite ready to discuss it with the detective just yet. It had taken priority over a potential museum robbery.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Westside Gotham - Tinker’s House | Sunday, April 01, 2018 | 2:00PM</em>
</p><p>They go together to talk to the doorman. He opened the door looking half-asleep and blinking when he saw the detective and Batman on his doorstep. Honestly, Derek would have preferred to come on his own, but Tinker was hardly a suspect and there was no point in wasting time.</p><p>“Um,” Tinker said.</p><p>Greebie flashed his badge, smiling that warm, inviting smile. “Detective Paul Greebie. I had a couple of questions for you.”</p><p>Tinker’s eyes shifted between them and he stepped aside to let them in. “Okay.”</p><p>They headed inside and Derek glanced around the room. The place is a bit of a mess, which considering the state of his own room, was saying something. Tinker appeared to be a nervous sort of fellow, too. He sat and then jumped up when both Derek and Greebie sat, dropping back onto the couch a moment later.</p><p>“We don’t care about the weed in your apartment,” Derek muttered.</p><p>This did nothing to appease the kid, who curled into himself.</p><p>Greebie sighed, shooting Derek a look. “We’re just here about the robbery at Max Miller’s apartment.”</p><p>“I didn’t do it.” Tinker straightened up, aghast.</p><p>“We know you didn’t.” Derek had to hand it to the detective; he had a sort of patience that generally only high school guidance counselors possessed. “But you were working last night, yes?” When Tinker nodded, Greebie continued. “Did you see anything suspicious?”</p><p>He shook his head.</p><p>“You saw Max Miller when he came home last night?”</p><p>“Yes.” Tinker’s shoulders hunched forward.</p><p>Greebie nodded, his tone still calm and soothing. “Was he alone.”</p><p>The young doorman’s eyes flickered between the both of them, arms crossing in front of him. “Yes, he was alone. I remember, because he’d been real excited about his date that evening when he left, so it was a surprise to see him. Alone.”</p><p>Greebie and Derek exchanged a glance. Up until then, he’d been too nervous to say much. Now, they couldn’t get him to stop rambling which usually meant the person was hiding something.</p><p>“Right,” Derek stood, pacing. “Max came home alone?”</p><p>“Yes, sir, uh, Batman sir.”</p><p>Derek nodded, flexing his fingers. “Who was his date with?”</p><p>“Oh, he didn’t say.”</p><p>“What did she look like?”</p><p>“Brunette, really pretty blue eyes, the prettiest smile--” Tinker stopped, clearing his throat.</p><p>Tone still gentle, Greebie leaned forward. “I thought Max came home alone.”</p><p>“He, uh. He did. That’s just how he described--”</p><p>“Tinker,” Derek growled in warning.</p><p>The boy started to sob. “He paid me not to tell you that she’d been there. He was really worried about people knowing she was there. Please don’t tell him I told you.”</p><p>“Sounds like Max went home with Casey after all.” Paul hummed, making a note in his little book. “You still want to talk to her.” There was a dull throbbing pain in Derek’s chest like that time in elementary school when Ryan sat on him until he gave up his lunch money, but he nodded. “Yeah. I can handle it.” A new case didn’t take away the pain, but it did distract him from it.</p><p>“Listen,” the detective swiped a hand down his face, “before you go, I wanted to ask you to help with something else.” When Derek said nothing, staring expectantly, Greebie continued. “I know I’ve already asked you to help me with these robberies, but I want to read you in on something else. I’m sure you’ve seen the news about all of those disappearances? High profile women--”</p><p>Derek cut him off. “I’ve been looking into it.”</p><p>“Of course you have.” Greebie sighed, looking as tired as he sounded. Derek knew that he put a lot of hours into the GCPD, even when he was off duty. He <em>always</em> looked tired, but now he was starting to look frayed at the edges. “I should have figured. Maybe we should compare notes. Every lead I’ve had has come up dead.”</p><p>“You’re being stonewalled,” Derek said.</p><p>“No, nobody has told me to stop looking into it. It’s just nothing pans out.”</p><p>“The commissioner is blocking you. Guarantee as things start to ramp up with it, you’ll be asked to hand over the case. You aren’t having any luck, because someone with deep pockets or a lot of secrets doesn’t want you getting involved.” A beat passed, and he studied Greebie. “But I think you already knew that.”</p><p>“I suspected.”</p><p>Derek nodded. Greebie was one of the few good cops in the department. “That’s why you’re asking for my help.”</p><p>“I never know who I can trust. I’ve talked to some of those women who went missing. They say nothing happened, don’t even seem disturbed. I talk to the people in their life, and they say they’ve had a complete personality shift. Like…” he trailed off, trying to describe the change.</p><p>“They get a little stepford,” Derek suggested. “I’ve seen the same. Sally Newman’s husband took her to the hospital because she’d had a piece of glass on her foot, bled all over the house, and didn’t stop cleaning.” He’d said Sally had straight up ignored the pain. That had been a hard investigation for Derek, given the brief history he and Sally had shared years ago. While he no longer felt anything toward her romantically--between pining for Casey and fending off Catwoman’s flirtations, there was more than enough going on in his romantic life--but they were still close. His own interview with Sally had proven that she was not the same person, and not in the same way that people change as they grow older. Someone had messed with Sally’s mind. “He said she’s not the same person, even without the incident.”</p><p>“Stepford is exactly the word for it,” Greebie agreed, snapping his fingers. “Some of the husbands that I’ve talked with say the same, but there are some who act like that’s who she was before she went missing, but I’ve found old interviews and such, and there’s clearly a difference.”</p><p>“I don’t have much to give you right now,” Derek admitted. “But I’ll let you know when I do.”</p><p>Greebie nodded, glancing down at his notes. When he looked up, though, Batman was already gone, hidden nearby until the detective left. “I hate it when he does that.” Derek heard him whisper before heading for his car.</p><p>When Greebie had left, he watched a bit longer, seeing Tinker peek out from behind the curtains before disappearing. It was unlikely they’d get anything else out of him, and he had other interviews to handle, anyway.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Capitol Building Rooftop | Sunday, April 01, 2018 | 10:42PM</em>
</p><p>She did a quick perimeter search, but didn’t find anything out of the ordinary. No Batman, either. Part of her was disappointed, but Paul always seemed to have a soft spot for Catwoman. No traps were set up. Vaguely Casey wondered if Batman’s meetings with Paul were anything like hers. The rooftop bit, she knew, was the same.</p><p>“You rang,” she said, dropping onto the rooftop ledge.</p><p>He jumped, whirling around to face her. “Evening.” He flashed her a wide smile, like he did when he was just Paul (not Detective) and she was just Casey (not Catwoman) having a casual discussion over a cup of tea. “I always feel like I should address you by a name, but calling you Catwoman just feels awkward.”</p><p>“I didn’t pick the name.” They had the newspapers--Vicky, specifically--to thank for that. It always amused Casey that her cousin had such a fond obsession with Catwoman. If she only knew.</p><p>“No, I know. You’ve got to have a name, though.”</p><p>Casey snorted. “Solid effort, Detective, but I’m guessing you didn’t ask to meet me here because you wanted a name to call me?”</p><p>He sighed as she brushed past the pleasantries, as she always did. She had to admire his attempts to humanize her.</p><p>“No, I didn’t,” he agreed. “Can you come off the ledge? You’re making me nervous.”</p><p>Casey shook her head, feeling her tail twitch. If there was a trap waiting for her, getting away from her quickest exit was not in her best interest. “If I leave this ledge, it’s because I’m leaving this conversation.”</p><p>Paul held up his hands. “Alright, alright. Look, I wanted to ask you about Max Miller.”</p><p>“The name sounds familiar.”</p><p>“It should. He shows up in the papers a lot.”</p><p>Casey shrugged, tilting her head at the detective. “I only skim the papers, looking for mention of me.” It wasn’t entirely true, but considering how much time she spent with Paul as herself, it was best to put as much distance between her personality and Catwoman’s as possible. “Must have seen it in passing. What about him?”</p><p>“Wonder if you had anything to do with him getting robbed.”</p><p>Widening her eyes, Catwoman schooled her expression into one of exaggerated innocence. She didn’t get to show her snarky and sarcastic side often enough as herself. She may not like the reason she is Catwoman, but sometimes it’s fun. “I would never, but if his things have gone missing, he should be more careful.”</p><p>“Are you saying it’s his fault that he was robbed?”</p><p>“Well,” She examined her claws, extending her hand out in front of her, “I’m just saying, he has more wealth than he needs and he does nothing with it. Some of us aren’t so lucky.”</p><p>“He donates a good portion of his money to charity,” Paul said, crossing his arms.</p><p>At this, she laughed. “Hardly. The money he donates doesn’t come from his bank account. I’m willing to bet he stops funding your pet project after that single donation, too. Tell me, have you tried cashing that check, yet?”</p><p>He eyed her for a moment. “How do you know about that check?”</p><p>“I have my ways. Anyway, I’m just distributing the wealth. If Batman can go around, twisting his hand to achieve his particular brand of justice, why should I be any different?”</p><p>“He’s not taking anything from anyone when he does it. He doesn’t steal someone else’s wealth for it, either.”</p><p>She hummed, speaking more to herself. “Wonder why that is.” Is anyone really that altruistic? She doubted it.</p><p>“You know,” Paul’s voice softened and she hesitated to meet his eyes, “if this about needing money to get by, you don’t have to do this. Not this way. I know that things might be hard--”</p><p>“You don’t <em>know</em>,” she snapped. The sudden flare of anger and frustration nearly sent her reeling off the rooftop, but she managed to keep her balance. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Detective.”</p><p>As always, Paul remained calm. Even when faced with her, a criminal, his sympathetic smile never wavered. Paul was that altruistic, but he was probably one of the few. “Alright,” he agreed. “Help me understand, then.”</p><p>For a moment, she considered unloading on him. Things had been hard lately, and adding Catwoman on top of everything else had been exhausting. It would be so nice to tell someone what was happening. But then she thought about Lizzie. If she were to go to jail, who would take care of her sister? She couldn’t put that kind of pressure on Emily. Steeling herself, she gave a little shake of the head and hardened her voice. Reason and rationale had returned. She could not risk winding up in jail. “I can handle it,” she said, firm and unyielding.</p><p>Before Paul could argue or say anything else, she turned and jumped from the roof.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Gotham Methodist Hospital - Room 201 | Sunday, April 01, 2018 11:30PM</em>
</p><p>When Casey slipped into the room, she closed the door behind her slow and quiet so as not to wake Lizzie if she was sleeping. The lights were dim, but the steady beeping of the machines assured her that her sister was still alive.</p><p>“I’m awake,” Lizzie called from her bed. After a bit of fumbling, she found the remote connected to her hospital bed and hit the button to turn on a lamp. Both girls blinked a little at the yellow light and then their eyes adjusted.</p><p>“In pain?” Casey stepped further into the room, fingers clutched around the pot of a new plant. The hospital room was decorated in ivy and other big, leafy plants that she couldn’t name. Lizzie could, though. She knew each and every flower, leaf, and stem that resided in this room with her. Unfortunately, some of them were not doing so well. Casey had done her best to keep them alive, trimming them at her sister’s instructions, watering them, moving them around, making sure they got sunlight. Whatever the opposite of a green thumb was, Casey had it. Aside from making sure that her sister received the best treatment possible and keeping her company, making sure her plants stayed alive was the only other thing that she could do for Liz, and she was failing at it.</p><p>Hence the new gift.</p><p>Lizzie shook her head, but her face looked pale. It could have been the lighting, but Casey knew her sister. This would not be the first time she denied any pain to prevent Casey from worrying or to prevent them from giving her any more medication.</p><p>“See, when you tell me you don’t feel <em>any</em> pain, I know you’re lying to me.”</p><p>Smiling a little, the younger McDonald leaned back against her pillows. “Ah, so next time I should say that I <em>am</em> feeling pain, but it’s manageable.”</p><p>“You can admit you’re hurting.” Casey moved further into the room, dropping into the chair that stayed by Lizzie’s side. She hated ever having to leave that chair, but it was necessary. The newest addition to Lizzie’s collection is set on the bedside table; a baby orchid, the man at the nursery had told her.</p><p>She smiled at the gift and stretched out, hunkering down into the bed. “Emily came by today,” she said instead.</p><p>Casey made a note to say something the next time the nurse came to check on her. “Did she? She mentioned it when I saw her on Saturday.” She started digging around in her purse but stopped when Lizzie didn’t say anything else. When Casey looked up, Lizzie was studying her. “What?”</p><p>“Are we doing okay?” She gestured around at the room with the fancy hospital bed, the private room, and the comfortable pillows. “I was just fine at the downtown hospital, you know. It was fine--”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, Lizard. I’ve got it all covered.” Casey let her purse drop to the floor, putting a hand over her sister’s. “I’m taking care of it and you. All you need to do is focus on resting.”</p><p>“Okay.” Lizzie didn’t look entirely convinced, but she didn’t push the subject.</p><p>“Let’s play scrabble,” Casey suggested, going through the little chest to pull out the board. “And then when the nurse comes, you’re taking your medication and going to sleep.”</p><p>“Yes, mom.”</p><p>She was being sarcastic, but still it tugged at Casey’s heart just a little. That was a wound that still hadn’t healed. Some days she thought it never would. Something for her to deal with in her bi-weekly therapy appointment. For now, Casey brushed it off and focused, instead, on kicking Lizzie’s butt in Scrabble. Sick or not, she was going down.</p><p>Her sister fell asleep after the first game. That leaves Casey alone with her thoughts. She manages to talk a nurse out of an extra blanket and hunkered down in her chair with the remote, flicking it to the news. She fully intended on watching, but soon enough her eyes grew heavy and she was sound asleep.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Various Gotham Homes and Businesses | Monday, April 02, 2018 | 10:00PM-1:00AM</em>
</p><p>“She was this <em>beautiful</em> blonde,” Noel sighed. “There’s no way she was the thief. She didn’t even go home with me that night.” And he seemed a bit put out by the fact.</p><hr/><p>“She was absolutely gorgeous.” Kenda bustled about the kitchen, supervising her maid as she worked. After she’d gotten over the shock of Batman appearing in her house, she’d been happy to talk.</p><p>And talk.</p><p><em>And talk</em>.</p><p>“She was from France, I think, so her English wasn’t great. We’d met her about a month prior and kept in touch. I still e-mail her from time to time.”</p><p>Derek brightened beneath the mask. “Do you think I could get that email address?” Maybe Edwin and Sam could track it down.</p><p>“Sure.” Kendra gestured for him to follow her and led him into an overly posh office. She dug around and pulled the email off her computer, scribbling it onto a sticky note.</p><p>Derek took the sticky note, and was gone, leaving Kendra talking to an empty room.</p><hr/><p>“She had these brilliant blue eyes,” Kendra had sighed, almost enviously. “The kind that almost doesn't seem real?”</p><hr/><p>After bringing Noel out of his reverie, he said, “her eyes were a vibrant blue, they just pulled you in, ya know?”</p><hr/><p>“Killer blue eyes,” Trevor had said. “Kendra wouldn’t stop going on about them.”</p><hr/><p>While there were several people just in Gotham with blue eyes, he couldn’t help but find it a little curious that on top of having taken a stranger to a public event and being robbed within three days of said event, they all described the same slim build and bright, blue eyes.</p><p>Maybe it was high time Batman had a conversation with Casey.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Gotham City Youth Center | Monday, April 02, 2018 | 8:30AM</em>
</p><p>“You look tired.”</p><p>Casey glanced up and offered Paul a worn smile. He would always be Paul to her, never Greebie, no matter what other people called him.”You really know how to flatter someone. Don’t ever tell your wife that she looks tired.”</p><p>He laughed, dropping into the desk directly across from hers. “How’s Lizzie doing?”</p><p>She shrugged, deflating slightly. “She’s Lizzie. Trying to put on a brave face, acting tough. I know she’s in more pain then she’ll say.”</p><p>“Any updates from the doctor?”</p><p>“Nah. Same thing they’ve been saying.” The doctors were fond of telling her to be patient and that they were running tests. But they had been running tests for months now and had yet to come up with an answer for what had made Lizzie so sick.</p><p>“And you’re doing okay with…” Paul cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable judging by the way he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “The bills and everything. I know that Gotham Methodist is the best, but sometimes the best comes at a cost…”</p><p>“We’re managing,” Casey said, tightly. It’s not like she made a lot of money with her job at the Youth Center, but it was important work. “And the issue with mom’s life insurance should straighten out any day now.” That, too, was also a lie. Her mother’s life insurance hadn’t been a big deal, at first. Against Casey’s protests, Derek had helped to pay for the funeral and burial costs. George and her mom had been buried together with matching headstones--married at heart, the stones head each read. She and Lizzie had never lived extravagant lifestyles, so even when the Venturi’s pulled away (something she tried not to be angry about; everyone grieved in their own way, right? And it’s not like they were family…), they did alright for themselves.</p><p>Then, Lizzie had gotten sick. <em>Really</em> sick. And no doctor had been able to figure out what the problem was. Casey had dragged her sister from doctor to doctor, and finally set her up at the best hospital in Gotham. If she didn’t get an answer from them soon, she’d take her to a doctor outside of the city--she’d already been doing the research to find where the best place would be.</p><p>The bills had started to add up. Their mother’s life insurance suddenly became very important. The problem was, it seemed like the policy her mother had been paying for the last several years hadn’t been a real policy. Somehow, her brilliant mother had been scammed.</p><p>One way or another, though, Casey would make sure her sister got the treatment she needed.</p><p>“Okay.” Paul nodded, but his brows were still furrowed in her direction. “Everyone misses her here. And, about you looking tired, I only mentioned it because I care. I feel like you’ve been burning the candle at both ends; you’ve always been one to put too much on your shoulders. If you need help--”</p><p>“I can handle it,” she snapped. Immediately she felt guilty, slumping in her chair. “Sorry, that came out harsher than I meant for it. I <em>am</em> tired.” Between meeting with Paul and sleeping in a chair next to Lizzie’s hospital bed, Casey hadn’t gotten much sleep.</p><p>A beat passed, and she thought that she might have really offended him, but as always his smile remained kind and sympathetic. “I know you can. It doesn’t mean you <em>have</em> to, though. You have support.”</p><p>“Thanks.” Casey avoided his gaze, turning to face her computer head on.</p><p>Paul wasn’t done, however. “Casey,” he reached across the table toward her, “if you need anything--”</p><p>“I know where I can find you.” She offered him a small smile.</p><p>Guilt etched itself into the edges of her heart at dismissing him so thoroughly when he was only trying to help, but it was for the best. Paul was a really good cop. If she even began to open up to him, even a fraction of an amount, even with careful editing, he would piece it together so fast.</p><p>When she looked up at him again, Paul was studying her with an intense expression, but he didn’t broach the subject again. Instead, they both turned their attention to the news. Paul being a cop and Casey having an active nightlife, both were heavily invested in news reports. As such, the TV ran on a loop of various news channels throughout the day. Surprisingly, today, there was no mention of the theft at Max’s (though, she supposed he would want to keep that as quiet as possible), and the station had even moved on from the museum robbery. Instead, the news anchor focused on the disappearance of yet another high profile woman.</p><p>Vicky, Casey’s cousin and local news reporter, stood in front of the camera. “Amanda Baker went missing from her home yesterday evening. This is the fifth in a string of mysterious disappearances in Gotham. Commissioner Lassiter says that the M.O. is similar to that of the other disappearances, and we should anticipate the City Finance Director back at her home within a few days. While it appears GCPD would prefer us to believe this is of no concern, there is absolutely something going--”</p><p>The channel cut back to the news anchor. He cleared his throat, adjusting his tie. “It looks like we’re having some technical difficulties out in the field. In other news…”</p><p>Casey straightened, lunging for her phone. It was very likely that it was just technical difficulties, it was equally possible that something else had happened. It wasn’t uncommon for people to go missing, and if someone wanted to keep these disappearances quiet, Vicky going on about them only served to paint a target on her back.</p><p>“Take a breath,” Paul instructed, watching as she tried to pull up Vicky’s number. “That was live.”</p><p>“I know!”</p><p>“Casey,” he said, drawing her attention from her phone. “If it was live, what is the likelihood that she will be able to answer the phone on a regular day?”</p><p>She frowned, slumping in her chair, rubbing at her eyes. “We don’t get along, really, but she’s still family, I--”</p><p>“I know.” Paul stood, pulling on his jacket. “I’ll head to the precinct and see if anyone has heard anything. Until then, it probably <em>was</em> just technical difficulties.”</p><p>As much as Casey wanted to believe him, even Paul didn’t seem convinced.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Batcave | Monday, April 02, 2018 | 12:02PM</em>
</p><p>“Sure.” Edwin took the e-mail address that Derek handed him. “But a lot of people have blue eyes.”</p><p>“It’s a recessive trait.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“So,” Marti smacked the upper part of Edwin’s arm, “it’s a bit coincidental that all of these people were seen with different women, but all of them had the same blue eyes.” She chewed her lower lip. “You don’t think it’s really Casey stealing from them, do you?”</p><p>It had been difficult sharing his suspicions with them. Ever since distancing themselves from the McDonald family after the accident, Derek had been careful not to mention either Casey or Lizzie. Marti had looked up to Casey a bit and bonded with both of them, so telling her that Casey might be a thief had not been the highlight of his morning. “I think it’s a little weird that Max paid a doorman to say that Casey was never there that night after he was robbed,” Derek said, tightly. “I don’t know if she’s involved, but she probably knows <em>something</em> about what happened.”</p><p>“My money is on Catwoman,” Marti decided.</p><p>“Yeah,” Edwin nodded. “Saying that Casey is a thief is so laughable, like saying <em>she’s</em> Catwoman. What color are Catwoman’s eyes, anyway?”</p><p>Derek shrugged. “She always wears those goggles.” Not that he was confident he would know what color they were, even if she didn’t. They never exactly met in the light of day. It was hard to discern a person’s features at night, which is why Derek preferred doing his work at night whenever possible. Anonymity was key. “Just send the email, please.”</p><p>“Sure thing, boss.”</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Coco’s Coffee Cart | Tuesday, April 03, 2018 | 7:15AM</em>
</p><p>Originally Derek had planned to wait to talk to Casey, and then he planned to do it as Batman. But they still didn’t have a response to the email, so no way to track that down, and then he happened to run into her at a coffee shop.</p><p>Or, maybe he heard from Marti that she sometimes goes there in the afternoon, and he decided to pop in. It was for work, obviously. But damn if it wasn’t early. He managed to feign surprise, at any rate, when Casey tapped on his shoulders, brows knit together. “Derek?”</p><p>“Casey?” He grinned. “Look at that, running into you twice in a matter of days.” As if he hadn’t planned this. Totally casual.</p><p>“What a coincidence,” she said, and Derek could tell that she was trying not to smile.</p><p>“I saw your cousin on TV yesterday.”</p><p>She rolled her eyes a little, nudging him forward in line. “Yes, nearly gave me a heart attack. Things aren’t always what they seem in Gotham, if you know what I mean.”</p><p>Studying her for a moment, Derek nodded. That was certainly true when it came to him and his family, he had a feeling it was true when it came to their parent’s car accident--though he’d yet to make any headway on <em>that</em> case--and it had been true in every case that he, as Batman, had investigated. For the first time, Derek wondered if Casey was also not what she seemed.</p><p>“Anyway, the police seem to be brushing it off anytime they’re on camera. Only Paul seems worried, but that’s only because I see him at the Youth Center--”</p><p>“You’re still working there.” Derek feigned surprise. They paused their conversation so he could order his drink. “And whatever she wants,” he added, gesturing to Casey.</p><p>“You can’t just--”</p><p>“Don’t make a big deal of it, and just accept the coffee, Case. There are other people waiting in line.”</p><p>“I’d really rather--”</p><p>He huffed, turning back to the barista. “A flat white espresso for her, add a shot of caramel and a shot of vanilla.” He paid for their drinks and turned to walk with Casey to the end of the bar to wait for their drinks, catching her stunned expression.</p><p>“We will circle back to that,” she said.</p><p>“Sure.” If he had his way, they most certainly would <em>not </em>circle back to how he knew her preferred coffee order for her current state of distress, despite all the time between them. “You were saying, about Vicky?”</p><p>“Right.” She eyed him for a moment, and shook her head. “Anyway, I was watching the news and then they cut the feed--”</p><p>“You thought something happened to her.”</p><p>“Exactly.” She lowered her voice, glancing around and stepping closer to Derek. “Technically something did. Only, it was her boss cutting the feed. He didn’t want her saying anything more about it. Vicky was annoyed.”</p><p>Derek hummed. It wasn’t strange for the news not to want to cover the entire truth--it happened all the time--but it was strange for them to cut off mid-broadcast for a reprimand. Investigating the news outlet had now been added to his to-do list. “I imagine so; she did seem the type to prefer to get the last word.”</p><p>“Not pleased at all.” Picking up her cup of coffee, Casey smiled. While she may have been worried about her cousin when she thought she was in danger, it was clear that she was pleased that Vicky had been inconvenienced. “Where are you headed from here? Have time to sit and catch up? We didn’t get a chance to talk much Friday night.”</p><p>Grateful that she’d saved him from having to ask, Derek nodded. “Sure, I can sit for a bit.” Never mind that it had been his intent from the beginning. He followed her to a little table in the corner where she beat him to the chair against the wall, eyes on the door. Had that been intentional on her part, or did she simply choose a seat at random? How was he supposed to figure out if Casey was a thief, master of disguise. “So, not to be rude or anything, but Casey, you look tired.” Was it a normal tired, or was she busy dealing with stolen goods? Creating new identities to plan her next theft?</p><p>“Some of us have to work, Derek.” She eyed him over the rim of her cup. “We have responsibilities, things and people to take care of. We don’t have an inheritance to fall back on and can’t spend our nights partying, and our days sleeping in.”</p><p>If she only knew. “Maybe not, but you were working when we were… spending more time together.” Derek shifted in his seat, feeling a stab of discomfort. Referring back to anything before his dad’s death was always painful, as was referring to a time when he and Casey were closer, possibly exploring a different kind of relationship. If it affected Casey to hear it mentioned out loud, he couldn’t tell. Aside from a slight tightening of her fingers around her cup, her face remained expressionless. When did she become so hard to read?</p><p>“Well, circumstances have changed. It’s not just work anymore.” A note of anxiety crept into her voice, her forehead creasing.</p><p>He hummed. “I suppose if you hadn’t spent the night with Max Miller, you might be getting a little more sleep.”</p><p>Derek wasn’t sure what prompted him to say it. First of all, there was no way he should know that. As Derek Venturi, he had no involvement in police investigations. Casey could easily check to see if Max had told her. Not only was he putting the investigation in jeopardy by alerting a potential suspect to the fact that she’d been identified as being at the scene, but he risked exposing his identity as the man behind the Batman mask.</p><p>However, the audacity of her to accuse him of partying and not having a care in the world--even if that was the exact image he sought to portray--when she was spending the night with people like Max right after telling Derek there was nothing there had prompted him to speak. She was one to talk.</p><p>For her part, Casey blinked slow at him, the slightest narrowing in her brow, eyes glinting. “I’m not sure how that’s any of your business.”</p><p>“I’m not sure how my partying is any of <em>your</em> business.”</p><p>She leaned forward, setting her cup down on the table with a bit more force than necessary. “You have Edwin and Marti to think about, to take care of--”</p><p>He cut her off. “You have Lizzie!” Even if that’s not where his outrage about her spending the night with Max comes from, it was nice to be able to label something back at her.</p><p>She paused for a moment, looking like she’d been slapped. “You’ve got an entire company--and I know you didn’t ask for it, but this is the hand you were dealt. It’s time for you to grow up and be responsible. Maybe it isn’t my business, but I was asking questions about what you were doing. You sat there, acting concerned about how tired <em>I</em> look, when you have <em>no clue</em> what I have going on.”</p><p>To his surprise, her eyes welled with tears, and Casey threw herself back in her chair.</p><p>“You don’t get to pass judgements on where I spend my time, and why. If I want to stay the night with a friend or more than a friend that’s <em>my</em> business. You lost any right to pass judgement when you stopped acknowledging that Lizzie and I existed.” She inhaled deep, following it with an equally slow exhale. “I get that you were grieving, and I tried to understand it, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t hurtful. So you don’t get to come here and lecture me on what I should be doing. I <em>am</em> taking care of Lizzie, for the record. Which you would know, if you’d bothered to check in and see how we were doing.”</p><p>She glared up at the ceiling, swiping under her eyes with her fingers. Derek stared for a moment, processing. “What’s going on with Lizzie.”</p><p>Her laughter lacked any real humor. “A little too late to ask about that, Der. Listen, I’ve got to get going to work, but I’ll--I’ll see you around.”</p><p>“Right, right.” He watched as Casey left, feeling very confused about the whole encounter.</p><p>It wasn’t until she was gone that he realized he’d gotten so off track on trying to figure out whether or not she was a thief. When he left, he patted his pocket to make sure his wallet was still there.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Gotham Police Department - Precinct 4 - Rooftop | Tuesday, April 03, 2018 | 9:45AM</em>
</p><p>Her argument with Derek aside, work that morning had seemed like it would be an average day. Paul was late, which wasn’t always unusual since he showed up on a volunteer basis, but when he did arrive, Casey could tell that her morning at the coffeeshop was not going to be the only stressful part of her day. He did not arrive alone. Detective Sanchez was with him, and they both flashed their badges.</p><p>Paul, at least, looked apologetic. Sanchez looked bored as she stepped forward. “Can we speak with you for a few minutes?”</p><p>Panic seized Casey. The number of things that this could apply to was growing steadily. Still, she forced herself to remain calm, twisting her face into a confused expression. “Sure. What’s going on?”</p><p>“Nothing big,” Sanchez, pulled over a chair and dropped in beside Casey. “You might have been witness to a crime, and we wanted to ask you a few questions.”</p><p>Turning away from her computer, she faced them completely, pulling her face into further concern. “Oh, that’s terrible. What happened?”</p><p>“We’re keeping it pretty quiet,” Paul inserted, still standing back. He probably didn’t want to get too involved and risk a conflict of interest. “Max Miller was robbed the other night.”</p><p>“Oh.” Casey frowned. “That’s terrible. I just saw him this weekend. You think it happened at the party?”</p><p>Sanchez shook his head. “His home was robbed the night that you stayed over.”</p><p>“Ah.” She scrunched her face, leaning back letting some of her relief show in her expression. “He asked me not to say that I was there, even paid the doorman--”</p><p>Sanchez flipped through her notes and interrupted, “it was his idea to pay the doorman?”</p><p>“Yes. It’s--well this is a bit embarrassing for him, but I stayed the night with Max that night, and we had shared a few drinks. He’d already had a few at the party, and when we got back to his place, we each had a glass of this really nice whiskey he had on his bar.” She took a breath, squinting a little. “Everything is a little fuzzy after that--which is weird because I didn’t have much to drink, but I guess it was a really good brand of whiskey. Anyway, he was a little worried that it would get out that he couldn’t--” She shot Sanchez a meaningful look, face flaming at having this conversation in front of Paul-- “you know.”</p><p>“Perform?” Sanchez suggested.</p><p>Casey crossed one leg over the other, prim, and nodded. “Yes. So, he thought it was better if we just pretended I wasn’t there that night. He sent me on my way and paid the doorman to say I’d never been there.”</p><p>“Right.” Sanchez paused, skimming through her notes. “And you don’t recall anything strange happening aside from his failure to perform?”</p><p>She took a minute to pretend to think about it. “I’m not sure. I’d never been to his place before, so I’m not sure if anything was out of place, or missing before we got there or anything. The only thing was the door to the balcony was open when we woke up, and I’m fairly certain it was closed when we… I think we kind of passed out, honestly, but neither of us remembered opening the balcony.” She spread her hands, shrugging slightly, “sorry that I can’t think of anything else.”</p><p>“Thank you very much for your time, Ms. McDonald.”</p><p>“Sure, I’m happy to help.” She frowned. “I know he was really upset, so I hope you find whoever did this.”</p><p>“We’re going to do our best.”</p><p>“You said that you’re keeping this under wraps?” She waited for both Paul and Sanchez to give their affirmation. “So, no one knows that I stayed with Max? He seemed really concerned about--”</p><p>“We won’t say anything,” Paul promised. “He won’t blame you for this getting out.”</p><p>“It’s just the two of us who know you were there.”</p><p>“And Batman.”</p><p>Casey blinked and bit back a laugh, because never in her life did she think she would ever utter “Batman knows that I was there?”</p><p>Avoiding her gaze and scratching at the back of his neck, Paul nodded. “Yeah. We had to bring him into the investigation. Other than that, I don’t think we’ve told anyone else.” He looked to Sanchez who nodded her agreement.</p><p>Long after they were gone, Casey sat staring at her computer. It was <em>too</em> a thought to voice out loud, but the little niggling idea had not left her mind since Paul mentioned Batman.</p><p>When she first learned about Batman, Casey had been intrigued. Like many people, she thought it was a bit ridiculous for one person to take on the criminal underworld of Gotham all on his own, but there was no denying that he got results. Then, she had her first encounter with him as Catwoman. She’d been struck by his unwavering moral compass, quick wit, and if she were being perfectly honest, impressive physique. The latter two were things that had, at the time, vaguely reminded her of Derek. However, they were no longer in each other’s lives, and the more she read about the parties, the reckless behavior, and the other nonsense Derek had been up to, the more she had separated the two in her mind.</p><p>The thing was…</p><p><em>The thing was</em>, Casey <em>knew</em> Derek. From the moment they met, their relationship had been one defined by overinvolvement in one another’s business. There had been a time where he could read every expression on her face, every movement in her body and know, <em>just know</em>, that she needed a flat white espresso with a shot of caramel.</p><p>Obviously that hadn’t changed. And that image doesn’t line up with the one that Derek portrays to the public. And knowing him the way she does, or did, Derek isn’t the type to not take care of Edwin and Marti.</p><p>More importantly, how else would he know that she’d stayed the night with Max?</p><p>It was plausible he’d found out some other way, but the more she thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. Who else had the kind of money that would be necessary to get the kind of gadgets Batman had <em>and</em> keep them hidden away where no one could find it?</p><p>In fact, it seemed pretty obvious now.</p><p>Burying her face in her hands, Casey blew out a breath. Could Derek possibly be Batman?</p><p>The concept seemed ridiculous, yet… Dressing up as a Bat to chase around bad guys and fight crime was exactly the kind of daring and reckless thing Derek would do.</p><p>Batman had appeared not long after their parent’s mysterious accident. Not long after, Robin had appeared. Then Batgirl--oh god, <em>Edwin and Marti</em>. It had been staring her in the face all this time. Somehow she had missed it. And quite suddenly she was furious at Derek. For putting himself in danger, and for putting Edwin and Marti in danger, too.</p><p>Honestly, what was he thinking?</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Venturi Manor - West Wing | Thursday, April 05, 2018 | 4:10AM</em>
</p><p>The sound of a person rifling through his drawers woke him up. According to the clock on his bedside table, he’d only been asleep for an hour or two at most, and had been in the middle of a very strange dream--where he’d been chasing a cat down a never-ending hallway, trying to check it for injuries--when sounds reached his consciousness, and he’d been alerted to a presence in his room. “Marti,” he stretched. “What are you doing?”</p><p>A pair of glowing green eyes turned to face him and Derek jumped. He recognized those thin, night-vision goggles, but never had they shown up in his house before.</p><p>At least, not to his knowledge.</p><p>Even as he reached to switch the light on, hoping to blind her, she reached up and turned the goggles off. It was a bit strange--surreal, even--having Catwoman standing at the foot of his bed. “You’re not Marti,” he said.</p><p>She snorted, leaning on one of the bedposts. “No,” she agreed, eyeing him.</p><p>Feeling vulnerable and exposed, Derek tugged the blanket a little higher over his chest. “I don’t know what you’re hoping to find in my underwear drawer, but nothing you’d want is in there.”</p><p>“I was just trying to determine if you were a boxers or briefs kind of man.” She held up a hand, a pair of his underwear dangling from one of her pointed claws. Maybe he was still dreaming, only it had turned into a very strange nightmare. To Derek’s horror, she had managed to find his oldest pair of briefs. They were a comfort pair that he’d never bothered to throw out, and they had started to tear at the waistband some time ago. He resisted the urge to hide under his blanket in embarrassment. “All that money, Mr. Venturi, and you can’t find the time to buy new underwear?” Her head tilted to the side, flicking her hand so that his briefs fell to his bed. “One wonders what you do with all your spare time.”</p><p>He shifted to sit up, so that they would be somewhat on even ground. “There’s nothing in this room for you to steal,” he said, instead of trying to defend himself.</p><p>“You think so little of me?”</p><p>“Aren’t you here to rob me?”</p><p>She shook her head, leaning back on the bedpost. “No.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>For a moment it didn’t look like she would answer, but finally she shrugged. “You’re not like the rest.”</p><p>Not entirely sure how to take that comment, and not entirely sure that he could take her words at face value, he studied her. “Why are you here, then?”</p><p>“Oddly enough, I’m here <em>about</em> Marti--calm down, I wouldn’t hurt her.” Derek had started to climb from the bed, ready to tackle this intruder to the ground. Strangely enough, she made a good point. As far as he could tell, Catwoman had never attacked kids, and every encounter she had with another person, they’d simply been put to sleep. He fell back against his pillows rubbing his eyes. “Can you just get to the point, please.”</p><p>She hummed. “Someone not getting enough sleep?”</p><p>The way she said it, like she was fishing for something, had Derek snapping his eyes toward hers. He wished he could see them. “What color are your eyes?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>He shook his head. “Never mind.” As much as this was a golden opportunity to find out if the woman beneath the leather was Casey (reminding him of another dream he'd once had)--a thought that did a <em>number</em> on Derek’s body, so much so that he hoped he would not have to exit the bed--he couldn’t think of a way to explain his curiosity as Derek.</p><p>It was also hard to remember that he was having this conversation as Derek and not Batman. Leading a double life was certainly exhausting.</p><p>“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Venturi?”</p><p>He shook his head and snorted. “No.”</p><p>“Pity. Am I not your type?”</p><p>“That is…” Derek squinted at her. “There’s someone else,” he said, finally, feeling a little offended that she would so blatantly flirt with him when she usually reserved that for Batman.</p><p>She propped her elbow on the bedpost, resting her chin in her hand as her brows shot up. “Oh? Do tell?”</p><p>“Didn’t you say you were here about Marti.”</p><p>Heaving a big sigh, Catwoman straightened, and he caught the flick of her tail. Not for the first time, he wondered how that worked, exactly. He did know it detached and became a whip, but how did it move when attached to her like that? “Yes. I’m not sure if you’ve been keeping up with the news, but all the women who have been going missing? Amanda Baker has returned home, but I think that Marti might be on the list.”</p><p>This caught his attention, and he leaned forward, letting the blanket fall. “What do you mean?” So far every woman who had been taken had been one of great power and influence. While Marti carried the Venturi name, she didn’t hold any position of power just yet.</p><p>“I’ve been looking into it--”</p><p>“Unexpected.”</p><p>“I’m a thief, Mr. Venturi, but I’m not a monster. I have my reasons for what I do.” Did he detect a crack in her voice at that? “But whatever is going on here is sick and twisted. I’m not about to stand by while someone brainwashes all the women in Gotham.”</p><p>“What are those reasons?”</p><p>“Oh, that I could tell you.” She shook her head. “As I was saying, I’ve been looking into this. Again, I’m not sure how well you keep up with the news, but a live report was cut off when the reporter started saying a little too much. It turns out that the network was responsible for cutting the broadcast.”</p><p>“I heard.”</p><p>She hummed. “Maybe you’re not as tone deaf as everyone seems to think.”</p><p>That was certainly not the image he wanted to portray to the world. His public stunts were public for a reason. “A friend told me,” he corrected.</p><p>“This the Someone Else you mentioned?”</p><p>“Was there a point to all this?”</p><p>She sighed, tapping a finger on the frame of his bed. “Such a closed lid,” she purred. “After looking into it a bit, I’ve found that Truman French owns the Network, and he was the one who made the call to cut the feed.”</p><p>That was interesting, and further than he or Greeby had gotten. Truman French did not have a scandal to his name. The only reason he was so squeaky clean was because his pockets ran about as deep as the Venturi’s, and he had no qualms about paying to keep things quiet. One way or the other. He was exactly the type of person who could--and would--stonewall Greeby’s investigation, too. “What does this have to do with Marti?” Other than the fact that Truman was aware of her existence, she still didn’t pose a threat.</p><p>“She’s been writing about the disappearances of the women on her blog.”</p><p>“What?” Derek felt like he’d been knocked onto his back. How did Catwoman know his baby sister ran a blog, and he had no clue?</p><p>“I broke into his office,” she waved a hand at his scandalized look, “and he’d been reading her blog. Had done a deep dive through it, in fact, and he may have deemed her a threat. He also had information on all the other women. This could easily be explained by the fact that he runs a new station, but I doubt the news needs to know the intimate details of their day-to-day routines. I thought you ought to know.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Because I care. I told you, I’m not a monster.”</p><p>“Just a thief.”</p><p>“Out of necessity.” She straightened up, and he sensed their conversation coming to a close.</p><p>“People always have options.”</p><p>Snorting, Catwoman swept her arm at the room at large. “Easy for you to say.”</p><p>“Shouldn’t you take this information to the police. Maybe they can stop Truman from kidnapping anyone else.”</p><p>“Very few people at GCPD can be trusted.” When she shook her head at him, Derek got the distinct feeling that she found him to be naive.</p><p>“Batman, then.”</p><p>At this, she laughed, nose wrinkled up in amusement. “Even if I could find a way to reach him, I doubt he would hear me out.”</p><p>“So you’re just going to let him get away with it?”</p><p>“Now,” she smiled at him, wide, “who said anything about that?”</p><p>Before he could do or say anything else, she darted across the room for the window. It wasn’t until then that he realized it was open, but she was already out. He ran after her, glancing down but he couldn’t spot her figure running. It didn’t occur to him until a moment later to glance up, and when he did, he caught her hopping across the roof to the other side of the property. For a moment, he considered going after her, or trying to stop her, but as she posed no real threat--for the moment--he let it be, deciding to head to the Batcave.</p><p>There was no way he was going to be able to sleep now.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Batcave | Thursday, April 05, 2018 | 9:12PM</em>
</p><p>“We got a hit,” Edwin said, straightening up in his chair. He’d been hard at work building a rubber band ball, but now that something happened, it fell to the wayside, his fingers clicking away at the keyboard.</p><p>“You’re going to have to be more specific.”</p><p>“The e-mail.”</p><p>At that, Derek sat up, coming to Edwin’s side. He’d started to think that the owner of the email address was never going to reply. “Where’s it coming from?”</p><p>“Still trying to triangulate.” Edwin’s shoulders sagged a little, the back of his neck turned a light shade of pink. “I should have said we got a reply.”</p><p>The actual substance of the email didn’t matter all that much. Still, Derek leaned over his brother’s shoulder to read the text: <em>Who is this?</em></p><p>Unfortunately, nothing that would give away her identity if she was not who she said she was, but Derek hadn’t really expected it to be that easy. He nudged Edwin’s back. “Anything?”</p><p>“Jeez.” He shrugged off Derek’s touch, shaking his head. “I’m working on it.”</p><p>“Well, tell me when you have something.” Heading back to his seat, Derek dropped into it, staring at Marti’s costume. “You know Marti has a blog?”</p><p>“Yeah, of course.”</p><p>“How come I didn’t know.” The typing at the computer paused, and when Derek glanced over, Edwin was staring at him. “What?”</p><p>“When would you have the opportunity to find out?”</p><p>“What does that mean?”</p><p>Edwin sighed, scrunching up his face. “You’re busy saving Gotham, or putting on an act for the rest of the world so that no one would suspect Derek Venturi of being Batman. Or you’re resting from being Batman. We get it--it’s important work--but it doesn’t leave a lot of time for one on one conversations and heart to hearts.” He shrugged, turning back to the computer. “It’s not like she was intentionally keeping it from you. How’d you find out about it, anyway?”</p><p>“A friend.” It hadn’t occurred to Derek that he’d let his relationship with his siblings fall to the wayside by becoming Batman. He knew it was why he’d cut off a lot of other relationships--aside from Sam, who helped Derek manage the house and the business. For some reason, though, he’d assumed that he wouldn’t have to work to keep up with Marti and Edwin. A miscalculation on his part, obviously.</p><p>And now it made sense why they tried so hard to get involved in the crime fighting. Yeah, they probably did think it was great fun to go around beating up criminals--never mind the years it took off of Derek’s life span. But they were probably trying to spend time with him as well. He felt like an idiot.</p><p>Edwin snorted, loud and mocking. “I wasn’t aware that you had any of those.” Scooping up the rubber band ball, he threw it at Edwin’s arm. His training had been effective, though, because without looking away from the screen, Edwin reached up and caught the ball. “Well, I do.” No way would he let Edwin know that Catwoman had broken into his bedroom a mere few hours after Derek had returned from patrolling as Batman. If it weren’t for the secret entrance, he’d be worried that she might have been around longer and caught him coming back. Either way, he’d have to be more aware during his coming and goings. Just in case.</p><p>And some added security on the windows, because she should not have been able to open the one in his room without the alarm going off.</p><p>“I’ll believe that when--<em>oh</em>!” He jumped up, fist pumping in the air, turning the motion into a little victory dance that was, frankly, embarrassing. “I’ve got it! This person was tricky, but I managed to get it. In your face!” Edwin patted his chest, and widened his arm at the oversized screen. “Booya!”</p><p>“Please never do any of that again,” Derek said, dry, but he got up to look at the screen. “Well,” he said after a moment. “That’s not in France.”</p><p>“Nope.”</p><p>The little dot indicating the IP address that the email address had used to reply from was coming from Gotham Methodist Hospital.</p><p>“It’s still active.”</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Gotham Methodist Hospital | Thursday, April 05, 2018 | 9:30PM</em>
</p><p>“As far as I can tell, it was coming from the hospital cafeteria.” In his earpiece, Derek can hear the clicking of the keyboard as Edwin tries to pinpoint the exact location. “Regardless, there’s no way Kendra’s friend is back in France.”</p><p>“Doesn’t seem like it,” Derek muttered. Thankfully the night staff of the hotel was fairly light, but being one of the higher end hospitals, there were still more people milling about than your average hospital. Getting around without being seen, while a skill of his, was made a bit more difficult here with the brightly lit fluorescent lights.</p><p>Eventually, he made it to the cafeteria. Aside from the employees there for food, and one old man slowly spooning porridge into his mouth, it was empty. Granted, one of the employees could be the one replying to the email from a phone, but he had a feeling that wasn’t the case. None of them fit the direction of any of the women who had been seen with any of the theft victims.</p><p>“I lost the signal just a moment ago,” Edwin said. “She must have shut down.”</p><p>As he said it, Derek caught a flash of brown passing in the window of the doors across the room. “Can you look at the patient list?” It would be unlikely that someone as careful as this thief has been (it really was giving him Catwoman vibes) would be at a hospital cafeteria unless they were visiting someone or… “Look at the staff list, too.”</p><p>“I’m already on it, but what am I looking for?”</p><p>“Anything that stands out.”</p><p>“Like Lizzie?”</p><p>Derek froze, ducking into a utility closet. “<em>Lizzie</em> Lizzie?” Beneath his mask, he felt his face go white and he could hear the same bit of terror in Edwin’s voice. Gotham Methodist was not for a common injury. The treatments there are for people with threatening or long-term illnesses. If Lizzie was a patient, that means there’s something seriously wrong with her. She’d been Edwin’s best friend before they’d had to separate themselves. With what he was feeling, he couldn’t imagine what Edwin was feeling--or Casey, for that matter. He flashed back to the conversation they had at the coffee shop.</p><p>At the time, Derek had waved most of her anger and irritation away as just her upset at him being presumptuous, but recalling her words and knowing that Lizzie has been sick brought new meaning to the tears, and the righteous indignation. “How long has she been a patient?”</p><p>The line was quiet as Edwin spent a moment scrolling through Lizzie’s records. “A while,” he said, finally. “It doesn’t look good. She was transferred from another hospital when her caregiver--Casey--felt that she was getting the necessary care. There’s no definitive answer on what’s wrong, only that she’s getting more and more sick every day. They were going to have to release her, because the hospital wasn’t receiving payments, but then Casey started making payments regularly, paying what she owed in one large lump sum.”</p><p>They were both quiet, but Derek had a feeling that Edwin was thinking along the same lines. If they hadn’t withdrawn, they could have helped out with Lizzie’s medical treatment. Hell, they probably could have gotten her a better doctor outside of the city, or even the country. Neither of them had any idea that Lizzie was even sick. He couldn’t even get mad and tell Casey that she could have called. She had a lot of pride, and she wouldn’t have done it for herself, but she would do it for Lizzie.</p><p>A few months after the accident, Sam had brought Derek a message. He was too busy training to become Batman, too wrapped up in grief. He’d already cut the cord with Casey, and she’d received the lack of contact and returned calls as the message it was intended to be. He’d been confused when Sam had said that Casey had called, and declared it to be urgent. Derek had declined to return the call, deciding that Casey was likely being dramatic, and if it really were important, she wouldn’t try again. But his refusal had probably been the final nail in their friendship coffin. It was a wonder that she was even speaking to him at this point.</p><p>“When did Casey make the first payment?”</p><p>“About eight months ago. Just a few weeks after Catwoman’s first theft… I know we were joking about it the other day, but you don’t think…?”</p><p>“What’s her room number?”</p><p>“What are you going to do?” Edwin sounded a little panicked, but he needn’t have worried. Derek was a professional. He could set aside the personal, even for this.</p><p>When he had Lizzie’s room number, he exited the hotel, choosing to let himself in by way of the balcony doors. The sight that greeted him was largely green and brown, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of the room. Everywhere he looked, there was a plant in various states of shriveling. Some of the plants were doing well, but others looked to be overwatered, and some to have had too much sunlight, while others had not enough. Lizzie, obviously, was not the one caring for these plants. He’d never known a plant to die under her watch. Hell, she’d revived his dried up succulent from the brink of death.</p><p>The one person Derek knew to, unfortunately, be a killer of plants, was Casey. It wasn’t malicious or intentional, but she cared a lot about them and tended to overcompensate. He’d always found that endearing.</p><p>Lizzie lay in the hospital bed, sound asleep, tubes coming out of her arms. She was paler than he remembered and another stab of guilt hit him in the gut. Curled up in a chair beside her was Casey, eyes glued to the TV. He wondered if she’d even noticed him sliding in from the balcony. From the glow of the TV, he noted that Casey looked pale, too. The circles underneath her eyes were more pronounced in the depressing setting. Once again, he recalled their conversation from the coffee shop and grimaced.</p><p>He cleared his throat, and she lazily shifted her gaze from the TV to him. “I wondered how long you were going to lurk there,” she said, finally.</p><p>“Long not,” he spluttered.</p><p>So much for being a professional.</p><p>“Fucking smooth,” Edwin snickered in his ear.</p><p>He wanted to tell Edwin to shut up, but that was hardly an option with Casey standing right there.</p><p>It had occurred to him--suddenly, when faced with the object of his affection--that he had had no clue what she thought about Batman. Knowing Casey, she’d be put off by vigilante justice; she was all about the rules. Granted, he was about to question her in a series of thefts, so she hardly had a leg to stand on (or a tail, as the case may be). Still, he wanted her to be proud of him.</p><p>Her eyebrow went up, a look Derek was much more familiar with, without the mask. She stood, coming to join him. Pausing so that she was standing a breath away, she looked up to meet his eyes as best she could with the mask. For a moment, it felt like she saw right through him. “Can we talk on the balcony? I don’t want to wake my sister up.”</p><p>Wordlessly, he nodded, following her out onto the little patio. “You don’t seem surprised to see me,” he said, once she’d cracked the door behind them.</p><p>“Granted, I didn’t think you’d come find me at the hospital where my sister is lying… ill, but I don’t pretend to know the ways of the superhero. Paul and his partner, Detective Sanchez, came to visit me. I’m guessing you’re here about what happened to Max?”</p><p>“You were there with him.”</p><p>She shrugged. “Max is a friend, and we shared a drink. After that, things got a bit… fuzzy.” That tracked. After Paul’s conversation with her, they had tested Max’s drink and it had come back with traces of a sedative. Casey leaned forward over the balcony, surveying the city. Even tired, even with the wind ripping through her hair, Derek thought she looked beautiful.</p><p>For the first time ever, Derek was struck with the urge to kiss a suspect. “From what I understand, you can do better than the likes of him.”</p><p>She hummed, glancing over her shoulder at him. “You <em>are</em> a charmer, aren’t you? Anyway, I already told Paul everything I know. I didn’t see anything that could help you. I don’t remember a whole lot.”</p><p>“Are you sure about that?” When she nodded, he came to stand beside her. “I’ve been doing my research, and you don’t seem the type to go home with the likes of Max Miller, or to go to events like the Gala where you were seen with him that night.”</p><p>“He’s a friend, and he offered--”</p><p>“I have to wonder how a person who works for a non-profit organization can afford the kind of care that this hospital can provide.” Derek leaned in a little, examining her clear, blue eyes. Were those the same bright blues that hid behind Catwoman’s goggles? “Everyone who knows you knows that you care about your sister. I’m willing to bet you spend more nights sleeping here, beside her, than you do in your own bed.”</p><p>“Perhaps.”</p><p>“A person like that would not step away from their responsibility as caretaker for something as frivolous as a party.”</p><p>Somehow they had grown closer. Casey was no longer looking at him, but at his lips. Did… did she want to kiss Batman?</p><p>“You have certainly done your research. I should have guessed someone in your position would be so… thorough.” When she bit her lip, Derek’s knees nearly gave out. What was happening? “Honestly, when women are going missing every day, shouldn’t you focus your energy on that and not investigating the wrong person for a robbery of a snotty rich person?”</p><p>“Have to investigate all avenues,” he said, embarrassed at how breathless he sounded.</p><p>“I can respect that.” She turned, completely to face him. “You think I could do better than Max Miller, but you don’t even <em>know</em> me.”</p><p>“I know you deserve better.”</p><p>“There’s a thing called life insurance. That’s how I pay for all this.” She hummed, and the next thing he knew, Casey’s lips were on his. It was soft, warm, inviting, and everything that he had imagined kissing Casey would be. For a moment, he leaned into it, settling his hands on her hips and returning the kiss in equal measure. It felt like every inch of him was alive, vibrating and begging for her to run her fingers along his bare skin…</p><p>Derek pulled apart, cutting off the kiss quite suddenly. His lips ached for hers. “I should go.” Without waiting for a response, he pulled out his grapple gun from his belt, aiming it for the building next door, tuning into the gagging in his ear as he flew away.</p><p>“I can’t believe I just listened to my brother make out.”</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Gotham Methodist Hospital | Thursday, April 05, 2018 | 9:30PM</em>
</p><p>“Oh, god.” Casey buried her face in her hands, leaning on the railing. She’d just kissed him, out of nowhere. Never mind that she’d been flirting with Batman as Catwoman for <em>months</em>, she’d just leaned in and kissed him as herself.</p><p>There had been no good reason to do it, other than she wanted to and he was there and the next thing she knew, she was kissing him.</p><p>More importantly, Batman had kissed her back.</p><p>She wasn’t sure what exactly that meant, but it felt significant. What if Derek really was Batman? He knew exactly who he was kissing in that moment, even if she only had her suspicions. Once the thought had entered her mind, though, it was next to impossible to picture Batman as anyone other than Derek.</p><p>Still, Casey might have just ruined everything--including her secret identity--by throwing herself at the bat.</p><p>What a nightmare.</p><p>But it had been some kiss.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Gotham Police Department - Precinct 4 - Rooftop | Friday, April 06, 2018 | 11:42PM</em>
</p><p>The spotlight turned off as soon as Batman arrived on the scene, which was unusual. Greeby usually left it on as long as they were talking. Deciding that he might have been trying to conserve energy, Derek strode forward onto the rooftop without much thought.</p><p>It could have been a grave mistake instead of the rookie mistake that it was. As soon as he’d walked onto the rooftop, a familiar voice sounded from behind him. “We should call a momentary truce.”</p><p>“I don’t have truces with criminals,” he said, turning to face Catwoman.</p><p>She shrugged, coming forward. “I think you might want to consider hearing me out on this one. I have some information for you.”</p><p>“Oh?” He glanced around, looking for any other indication that this was a trap, but she appeared to be on her own. It made sense, as he’s never really known her to work with anyone else.</p><p>Catwoman nodded, stepping closer. “I think Truman French is behind the missing women.”</p><p>Feigning surprise wasn’t all that difficult. It wasn’t that he didn’t expect Catwoman to share this information with him once she’d dropped in. Derek had been the master of sneaking open his Christmas presents and pretending to be surprised the next day by age ten. Add in a mask and a superhero persona, and pretending like he hadn’t already heard this news was a piece of cake. “That’s a pretty bold claim.”</p><p>“I did a bit of research.”</p><p>Catwoman was eyeing him speculatively. For a moment, he wondered if she knew that Casey had kissed him last night, but unless she’d been there, there was no way for her to know. He wasn’t entirely convinced of Casey’s innocence, but the idea that she was not only stealing from people but was also Catwoman? That was a bit much to wrap his mind around. “Why would you bother?” He was curious to see if she would give him a different answer than the one she’d given him as Derek.</p><p>She eyed him for a moment, shrugging. “You think I’m a monster, don’t you?”</p><p>“I think you play by your own rules, and outing another criminal doesn’t necessarily seem like your style.”</p><p>“There’s a lot about me that you don’t know.” Her voice was soft, the sentence an invitation. She leaned forward slowly. Then, without warning, leaned the rest of the way in, licking from his chin up to his lips. It was the strangest thing a girl had ever done to him, but Derek found himself incredibly attracted to the action. “You should take some time to get to know me.”</p><p>If she had wanted to slit his throat right then and there, he probably wouldn’t have been able to stop her, so far gone were his mental faculties. Not that he’d ever known her to be a murderer. He was just grateful that Edwin wasn’t in his ear this time. Catwoman, however, seemed completely unaffected by their proximity.</p><p>Derek took a solid step back from her, taking in a deep breath. “Did you call me here to seduce me, or to give me information.</p><p>Her red lips formed into a pout, but she proceeded to tell him again about what she’d found in Truman’s office. While she’d only shared with Derek that he’d been looking into Marti’s blog, she had way more to share with Batman.</p><p>“He’s been funding a therapist who does a lot of hypnosis work, and he’s built all this technology for it. He’s definitely the type to make prominent women into stepford wives, and he has the means to do it. I just haven’t figured out why.”</p><p>For the first time, Derek took a moment to really study Catwoman, not as a criminal but as a person with motives that went beyond theft. “You’re really worked up about this?” He said, surprised.</p><p>“Of course. This is some twisted shit. Women are not meant to be the happy, obedient wife and puppet.”</p><p>It took a moment for it to register that she was angry. Their interactions had always been categorized by banter as they fought on opposing sides. He’d never had the pleasure of seeing her angry, but that righteous feminist anger reminded him strongly of Casey. “Is this as far as your help goes?”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>He shrugged. “Are you going to keep looking into this?”</p><p>“Isn’t that kind of your job?” Her hands went on her hips as she surveyed him.</p><p>“You seem all up in arms about this. Seems almost hypocritical of you not to do something about it.”</p><p>Her lips curved into a wide smile, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. “I brought this information to you, didn’t I?”</p><p>“Maybe you two should just work together?” The voice that spoke up came from behind Derek, and he hoped to god that it hadn’t been there any sooner. He didn’t turn to look at Marti as he was already having trouble keeping in the lecture. He had told her to stay home.</p><p>“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”</p><p>“Batman, are you scared?”</p><p>He snorted, shaking his head. “No, I’m not scared.” A little worried about what working with Catwoman would mean, but he wasn’t <em>scared</em> of her. “But I don’t typically work with criminals, and you don’t exactly seem like a team player.”</p><p>“Haven’t we already determined that you don’t know everything about me?”</p><p>Marti hopped up beside Derek, nudging his arm. “At least you could keep an eye on her this way.”</p><p>“We will talk about this later,” he muttered.</p><p>She huffed, crossing her arms. “I think we need all the help we can get to get to the bottom of whatever Truman is up to. Goodness knows he’s not kidnapping women and turning them into zombie versions of themselves for the fun of it.”</p><p>“I’m getting involved, either way,” Catwoman added.</p><p>And so, they struck an uneasy reliance. It took some arguing, but they picked a neutral spot to meet the following night so they could make a plan, and trade information.</p><p>“You get back to the cave,” Derek muttered so only Marti would hear.</p><p>“Aye, aye captain!” She gave him a salute and he watched as she swung away on her own grapple hook. How had she grown up so fast?</p><p>When he looked up, Catwoman gave him a mock salute. “I should be on my way as well.”</p><p>“Before you go, I wanted to ask--” She stepped forward until they were toe to toe again. “Yes?” she purred.</p><p>“Did you have anything to do with the theft at Max Miller’s house?”</p><p>She laughed. “Just because I promised to behave for a short period, doesn’t mean I’m going to come clean about any of my past crimes.”</p><p>“That sounds like a confession.”</p><p>She shrugged, putting a hand on his chest. Did his suit protect the beating of his heart, or could she feel it beneath the palm of her hand? “I will neither confirm nor deny,” she whispered, looking up to him.”</p><p>Mouth dry, he glanced down at her voice just above a whisper. “What are you doing?”</p><p>“I don’t know. You’re just so--so magnetic. I feel drawn to you.” She shook her head a little, smile softening. “It’s a bit silly.”</p><p>“Do you flirt with everyone?”</p><p>She shrugged. “To some degree, though you’re the only one I really mean it with.”</p><p>He reached up a hand to brush the back of his fingers down her cheek. “We’re on opposite sides; I don’t think we’d ever work out.”</p><p>“Maybe not.” She shrugged. “I can’t help it, though. I’m attracted to you. I like a man in uniform, and the bad boy aesthetic. You managed to wrap it all up in one, chisel-jawed package.”</p><p>“So you just want me for my body?”</p><p>Catwoman laughed, and he found he rather liked the sound. “It helps,” she admitted. “But you, fighting crime for the good of Gotham and still playing by your own rules? There’s something very attractive about that.”</p><p>He should have said something back, but he didn’t know what to say. She was attractive, and as far as criminals went there was worse she could be doing. And even though he often imagined Casey wearing the leather suit, he wasn’t sure that it <em>was</em> her under there. And Casey owned his heart.</p><p>When he didn’t say anything, Catwoman sighed, taking a step back. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”</p><p>“Something like that.”</p><p>“I’ll see you tomorrow, Batman.” She gave him another mock-salute, and then she was gone. As tempted as he was to follow her and see where she went, he turned the other way. He and Marti needed to have a conversation.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>McDonald Apartment | Saturday, April 07, 2018 | 9:02AM</em>
</p><p>It shouldn’t have mattered that Batman rejected her as Catwoman, because they could never be together. He’d had a point when he said that they were on opposite sides. But on the back of running away from her as Casey as well… it had been painful, and Casey had gone to bed with the company of Ben and Jerry last night.</p><p>In the light of morning, she had hoped that it would seem clearer or she wouldn’t feel quite as stung. When she woke, blinking bleary-eyed at her ceiling--the nurses had insisted that she sleep in a proper bed this evening--neither rejection hurt any less. Regardless, she had to get up and face the day.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Gotham Hospital | Saturday, April 07, 2018 | 10:00AM</em>
</p><p>When she reaches the hospital, she’s greeted by one of the nurses. “Is Miss McDonald expecting any other visitors today?”</p><p>Blinking, Casey shook her head. “No, why?”</p><p>“Just a gentle reminder that only two visitors at a time. I know sometimes your other friend stops by.” And then she was on her way.</p><p>Confused and slightly terrified, Casey hurried the rest of the way to Lizzie’s room, clutching the little succulent she’d picked up that morning. Poking her head in, she’s surprised to find Derek of all people sitting in her usual spot. The two of them are deep in conversation about soccer from the sounds of it, and neither notice Casey entering the room until she clears her throat.</p><p>Lizzie brightened immediately. Derek turned in his seat and upon spotting Casey, immediately jumped up. “Hey.” He ran his fingers through his hair, offering her a crooked smile. “Hi.”</p><p>“Hi…” She extended the vowel, moving to Lizzie’s side to set down the plant. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>“Visiting Lizzie. And I wanted to talk to you about the other day.”</p><p>She felt a tug on her arm and had to pull her gaze away from Derek--how had he found out?--to look at Lizzie, who raised her eyebrows at Casey. “The other day, huh?”</p><p>“Not like that.” She laughed, shaking her hand out of her sister’s grip. Of course, Lizzie would read too much into it. With all the time that Casey had been spending at the hospital and work, she worried about Casey having a life. She suspected that Lizzie might have had an inkling that there was something between her and Derek, too. Too bad they never had a chance to fully explore whatever had been brewing. Before Lizzie could get her hopes up, she shook her head again. “We ran into each other when I was picking up coffee the other day.</p><p>“And at the Gala,” Derek added, smirking.</p><p>“Hallway,” Casey insisted, giving him a shove. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Oh you know, it’s one of--”</p><p>“Not <em>you</em>.” She gave Derek another shove, looking to Lizzie who waved her off.</p><p>“I’m fine, and I’m not going anywhere.” As if she knew that Casey often woke up in the middle of the night from nightmares where she came back to an empty hospital room because something happened to Lizzie while she was gone.</p><p>Leaning over, she pressed a kiss to Lizzie’s forehead, a sweet gesture that served a second purpose of letting her know if Lizzie was running too warm. “I’ll be right back,” she promised before ducking out into the hall to meet Derek.</p><p>Carefully closing the door behind her, Casey turned to examine Derek. Under the fluorescent hospital lights, he looked as tired as he had accused her of being. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, and he was starting to get scruffy along his jaw. Resisting the urge to reach out and feel the stubble, Casey folded her arms across her chest, tucking her hands tightly. “What are you doing here? How did you even--”</p><p>He shrugged, ducking his head and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “The what is that I’m here to apologize, and the how, well you said the other day that I would know if I’d bothered to inquire, and it wasn’t hard to find out.”</p><p>Derek hadn’t said <em>how</em> he found out that Lizzie was in the hospital, but she supposed it wouldn’t have been hard to figure out even if he wasn’t Batman--something she’d yet to determine. “I see.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“For what?”</p><p>“That Lizzie’s sick, that I didn’t know, that I poked my nose into your business with Max…” Derek shrugged. “I’m sorry I disappeared after the funeral and pulled away.”</p><p>Her shoulders dropped, some of the tension easing out of her muscles. “Like I said, I know you were grieving.”</p><p>Derek’s mouth opened, but he shut it quickly, rocking on his feet. “Still. I wish I had known about this.” His head inclined toward Lizzie’s room. “Why didn’t you tell me?”</p><p>“I tried to tell you.” She eyed him for a moment, heart yearning for what could have been. “Would it have made a difference?”</p><p>“I figured,” he admitted, nodding. The question, however, stopped him short. She could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. There was something that he was keeping from her. It had been a long time, but she still remembered how to read him. “I would have helped pay for this.”</p><p>“But you still would have disappeared.” The knowledge stung, and she blinked back the prickling sensation at her eyeballs. "Too busy gaining a reputation.” She meant to say it lightly, but the reminder of him ignoring her sent a pang of longing through her chest, one that reverberated out into her words, leaking into a sad smile.</p><p>A blush creeped up his neck toward his jaw. Derek never blushed on his cheeks; when he was embarrassed, it crept along the back of his neck, hiding beneath his hairline. When he was incredibly embarrassed, it spread to the front. Most people never noticed, letting him pass for acting cool and collected. Casey, however, knew better. He dropped his gaze. “It wasn’t like that--it’s not why I was ignoring you.”</p><p>“Then, wh--” She cut off as an erratic beeping came from Lizzie’s room. Forgetting all about Derek, she turned, rushing through the door. Lizzie’s eyes were wide open, staring at the ceiling and she started to convulse. Before Casey could even move to do anything, a swarm of medical staff shoving her out of the way. Strong arms encircled her, pulling her out of the way, holding her there. Derek’s voice murmuring low in her ear. She couldn’t understand any of what he was saying, so focused was she on Lizzie, but it brought her comfort, kept her from screaming or crying or any of the other things she wanted to do.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Gotham Hospital | Saturday, April 07, 2018 | 1:22PM</em>
</p><p>Casey sat with her elbows on her knees, staring down at the floor. If she lost Lizzie, she wasn’t sure what she would do. Beside her, Derek sat in silence. At first, Casey hadn’t even realized that he had stayed behind. Eventually, though, as they had taken Lizzie from her room, Derek had led her away and she’d been reminded of his presence. Over the past few hours, he’d taken a few calls, stepping far away enough that she couldn’t hear the content, but could hear his low baritone.</p><p>Not once had he tried to force her to talk or offered platitudes. Instead, he’d rubbed her back when she couldn’t focus her breathing, disappeared and returned with her favorite tea, and just sat with her, present every time a nurse came out to offer an update.</p><p>“Ms. McDonald?”</p><p>She glanced up, both terrified and relieved when she recognized Lizzie’s primary doctor, Dr. Schlepper. He was an older man, gray beard that crept up his face into a hair that circled the crown of his head, leaving the rest bald. Personally, Casey preferred to interact with him as little as possible. While the best doctor in the city, there was something a little off about him. She chalked it up to social awkwardness combined with a little bit of medical genius that meant he didn’t relate well with people.</p><p>Standing, Casey adjusted her shirt. When he didn’t invite her into one of the side rooms, more tension eased out of her shoulders. Those rooms were reserved for quietly informing the family that their loved one had passed. Even if it was <em>bad</em>, whatever news he had wasn’t devastating.</p><p>Dr. Schlepper tucked one hand into his lab pocket. “Lizzie is stable. It seems she had a little bit of a reaction to the procedure we were trying. She’ll be unconscious for a day or so, and we’ll have to adjust the medications, but we may have a lead on what the issue is that’s been causing her to get sick. It might be an autoimmune issue.”</p><p>“Okay.” Casey nodded, trying to keep up. The ground swayed beneath her feet, and quite suddenly, she felt exhausted. “What does that mean?”</p><p>“It means we can treat it as such, and we can come up with a long-term treatment plan.”</p><p>“What about her being unconscious for a few days?”</p><p>He nodded. “We’ve put her in a medically induced coma--nothing to be overly concerned about. Her body needs time to heal and rest. She hasn’t been sleeping well, for instance. This will allow her body to focus primarily on healing without worrying about anything else.”</p><p>It wasn’t the best news she could get, but for the first time in a while, Casey allowed herself to feel hopeful.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Gotham Overlook | Saturday, April 07, 2018 | 11:30PM</em>
</p><p>It had been a very long day, and the last thing Casey wanted to do was don her Catwoman costume and meet up with the very Bat who had rejected her. It was hard to say if the fact that Batgirl and Robin would also be there made the ordeal easier. Upon further consideration, she decided that it did nothing to make her feel better. As a criminal, working with the crime fighting family that probably wanted to stick her in jail was not an ideal situation. She had to trust that they weren’t setting up a trap to capture her, and actually wanted her help with the Truman French Situation.</p><p>All three of them were there when she arrived at the overlook. They stood shoulder to shoulder, and she tried to compare seeing them up close (without having to worry about fighting) with her mental recollection of Edwin and Marti. Between the costumes and the time that’s passed since she’d last seen them, it was hard to say.</p><p>“Glad you could make it.” She hummed, trailing a claw along her whip. “I had things to take care of.” No apology! She eyed the three of them, before landing her gaze on Robin. Taking a chance, she jerked her head up in greeting. “Hey, Edwin.”</p><p>“‘Sup.” A beat. “Shit--wait, no. I’m not--” His eyes went wide, looking to Batman for assistance. Her eyes darted toward Batgirl. “Would that make you Marti?”</p><p>The girl snorted, tossing her hair. “As if I’m dumb enough to fall for that.” She leaned forward so she could look around Batman in the middle, eyes narrowed. “Never heard of Marti, and just shocked to hear someone knows your secret identity. Edwin, you say?”</p><p>Casey turned to the final member of their team. “Der<em>ek</em>, how can you let them go out and fight crime. They could get injured, <em>or worse</em>!”</p><p>All three of them turned to face her, and she realized what she had done.</p><p>“Why would you care?” Derek said, dropping the scratchy voice he used as Batman. It was a bit jarring hearing his voice come from behind the mask. She didn’t even get a chance to feel vindicated at having put it together. How could she have outed herself just as easily?</p><p>“How does she know who we are?” Edwin whispered.</p><p>Marti rolled her eyes. “You all suck,” she announced. Which, fair. Pointing a finger at Casey, she added, “Catwoman is Casey, you doofus.”</p><p>Blinking, Edwin turned to her with wide eyes. “What? No way!”</p><p>“Don’t we have a crime to focus on.” Maybe if she just… ignored the fact that she’d just revealed herself to her enemy, it would be fine and they would all move on and she could ignore her embarrassment over the fact that she’d been shamelessly throwing herself at Batman, when he was really Derek all the time.</p><p>“But she flirts with him all the time,” Edwin continued, bypassing her statement completely.</p><p>Or not.</p><p>“He just needs a minute to catch up,” Marti decided, dropping onto the ground criss-cross. “This might take a minute.”</p><p>Meanwhile, Batman--<em>Derek</em>--was staring at her, likely putting together all the pieces, if he hadn’t already. “Trevor and Kendra?”</p><p>“Me,” she confirmed. Might as well be honest. It’s not like Catwoman had ever been <em>shy</em> about her conquests before and it’s not like her aliases from recon would lead him to discovering her identity.</p><p>“Noel Covington?”</p><p>“Also me.”</p><p>His eyes narrowed. “Max Miller.”</p><p>She couldn’t resist rolling her eyes. “Well, of course. You think I’d actually sleep with him? Jeez, Derek.”</p><p>“Okay.” Edwin nodded, glancing between the two of them. “Yeah, I see it now.”</p><p>“Right.” Marti dusted her hands off. “Can we put this revelation away for later, and focus on the problem at hand?”</p><p>Relieved, Casey nodded her agreement. “I’ve got a plan.”</p><hr/><p>
  <em>French Estate | Sunday, April 08, 2018 | 12:02AM</em>
</p><p>They were just outside Truman French’s massive estate--not that Derek could really say anything about house sizes, all things considered, a fact that Catwoman (Casey!) had pointed out to him when he’d scoffed upon their arrival. He should be focused on their mission. Casey had done her homework, and thought they could easily prove that Truman French was behind the missing women… by breaking into his house.</p><p>“Everyone gives the rich their privacy, and he could <em>easily</em> hide some kind of prison or something underneath his house.” She had said, while casting him a sideways glance.</p><p>Instead of focusing on their mission, however, Derek had spent far too much time processing the knowledge that the woman under all that leather was Casey. Naturally, it’s his distraction that ran them into their first spot of trouble.</p><p>It had been fine the first few minutes. They’d bypassed a security alarm no problem. Watching Catwoman (Casey!) work disabling the security cameras had been… well, Derek couldn’t recall a time he’d been turned on by something utterly nonsexual. She was faster than Edwin, even. Derek had always appreciated that as an adversary. Working together, however, it was the sexiest thing he’d seen in a while, reminding him that it was <em>Casey</em> underneath all that leather, with a whip attached to her costume…</p><p>And that had been enough to distract him from the task at hand. He was supposed to be keeping watch while she worked, but completely missed the security guard turning the corner.</p><p>“Hey!” He shouted, and they both turned his way. Whoops.</p><p>Derek muttered a curse under his breath. Before he could act, however, Catwoman (Casey!) pulled her whip from her belt, cracking it in the guard’s direction. It snapped the gun from his hand, and the second crack of the whip sent him stumbling backward.</p><p>It was the first time he’d seen her use the whip when it wasn’t aimed at him or in a situation where he had to intervene. He could fully appreciate the toned muscles in her arms. Only for a moment, though, because there was work to be done.</p><p>“I thought you were watching for him,” she hissed, when they’d tied up the guard and shoved him into a closet out of the way.</p><p>“I got distracted,” he admitted.</p><p>“By what?”</p><p>Without thinking, Derek gestured at her from head to toe. “By all of this!” She paused, turning to eye him and he swallowed. “Well. It’s a lot to digest that you’re Casey and Catwoman, and you’ve been <em>flirting</em> with me.”</p><p>“Go ahead, then.” She cracked her whip once. “Get it over with.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Your rejection.”</p><p>“I’m not--<em>what</em>?” Derek shook his head, laughing, reaching to pull her in, though she stayed out of his reach. “I don’t want to reject you. Jesus, woman. The whole reason I never wanted anything to do with Catwoman was because I wanted to be with <em>you</em>.”</p><p>“Look, as heartfelt as this is--”</p><p>“And weird,” Marti’s voice cut in.</p><p>“And weird,” Edwin agreed, “shouldn’t we all get back to work?”</p><p>Underneath her mask, Casey smiled big and wide. “They have a point.”</p><p>“Fine.” Despite the mission’s dangers and the fact that this would only serve to complicate his life (in so many ways), Derek couldn’t resist grinning back at her. “We’ll circle back around to this.”</p><p>“Definitely.”</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Venturi Manor - Dining Room | Tuesday, April 10, 2018 | 10:10AM</em>
</p><p>After that, everything happened very quickly. They found Truman in his living room, sound asleep in front of a TV projector. Edwin provided them with the codes to his locked basement, and they found everything they needed to prove that Truman was behind all the women’s disappearances. Gotham Police picked him up the following morning.</p><p>“There’s something very weird about this,” Casey decided. She sat in the corner of the couch, and one arm propped on the side, her feet tucked under her and to the right, a blanket draped over her lap as she watched the news coverage of Truman’s arrest.</p><p>Derek had been paying less attention to the television and more attention to Casey. She’d gone straight back to the hospital after they had wrapped up with Truman French and then showed up at the manor about an hour ago. They hadn’t exchanged many words since her arrival, but it had been nice having her here again. “About what?”</p><p>“Well. Like the fact that he had all that security, but just the one guard and didn’t even wake up until the police dragged him out.” She pointed to the TV with the remote, “and he looks so confused about what’s happening.”</p><p>“He’s acting, Case.”</p><p>“Maybe.” She fiddled with her blanket. “It just doesn’t add up.”</p><p>“Weren’t you the one who said he was guilty?”</p><p>“Yeah, but… we never found out <em>why</em>, you know?”</p><p>He blew out a breath, sinking into his recliner. “I’m sure it will come out in court.”</p><p>Nodding, Casey burrowed a little further into her nest. All warm, fuzzy clothes, and slippers, she was a far cry from the black-clad cat he’d worked with over the weekend. He was just as fond. “Der?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Do you think we should talk about--”</p><p>He nodded, rolling off his chair to join her on the couch. “Yes, absolutely.”</p><p>Casey bit back a smile, shifting to face him. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”</p><p>“I think we should talk about the fact that I’m Batman, you’re Catwoman, and we’ve been in the dumbest fucking love square since Miraculous Ladybug.”</p><p>She snorted, shaking her head. “Is Batman why you disappeared?” He nodded as she folded her hands together. “Okay. I pay for Lizzie’s treatments with the money I make from the things I steal.”</p><p>“I figured.”</p><p>“So, now that you’re no longer plagued by some dumb notion about protecting me by keeping me at arm’s length…”</p><p>“We should definitely try this thing, yeah.” Derek nodded, incredibly enthusiastic. “For real this time.”</p><p>“Both feet in.”</p><p>Neither of them moved for a moment. Then, the blanket was tossed to the side, Casey was in his lap, and her lips were on his. It wasn’t the first time they had kissed, but it was the first time they had done so with everything feeling like it was aligned like it ought to be.</p><p>That kiss lit a fire in him, and he thought it did in Casey as well, because soon they were stumbling over one another on the way to his bedroom. “I can’t believe you went through my drawers.” She laughed, nipping at his ear. “I was curious.”</p><p>It took too long to get to his room with the way they could barely stop kissing, so Derek scooped her up, Casey wrapping her long legs around his middle. He groaned as her nails lightly scraped against his scalp. “Fuck.” He nudged his bedroom door open, kicking it closed behind them, finally, <em>finally</em>, making it to the bed.</p><p>“Eloquent,” she teased, breathless as he worked his lips up her neck and along her jaw. “I missed you.”</p><p>“I missed <em>you</em>.”</p><p>His clothes very quickly went the way of the blanket from earlier, carelessly tossed to the floor. With hers, Derek took a little more care, folding them in half and setting them aside. The pure adoration on her face as he did this made the effort of <em>waiting</em> worth it.</p><p>He then proceeded to spend the next hour to hour and a half exploring her body, and discovering all the sounds that were unique to Casey.</p><p>When they were finally spent, and lying on the bed to catch their breath, he tenderly brushed her hair back, cupping her face. “I just have to ask one very important question.”</p><p>Concerned, her brows knit together. “What’s up?”</p><p>“About that whip…”</p><p>“Der<em>ek</em>!” He laughed, even as she swatted him on the chest.</p><hr/><p>
  <em>Gotham Methodist Hospital | Thursday, April 26, 2018 | 9:02AM</em>
</p><p>Over the last couple of weeks, Dr. Schlepper had suggested that Lizzie partake in an experimental treatment. He had made a lot of assurances about the program and the treatment, but it meant that Casey’s visits to the hospital had been strictly limited to mornings from 9:15 to 10:15. It sucked, but if it meant Lizzie was going to get better, then she’d happily complied. However, it had allowed her to spend some time figuring out what was happening between her and Derek.</p><p>At least, that had been the intention. By the second week, Casey had effectively ended her lease at her apartment and moved into Venturi Manor, into Derek’s bedroom. It was nice.</p><p>Fantastic, really, as was he (something she rediscovered on a nightly basis).</p><p>Eager to see Lizzie--she’d sounded much better on the phone the night before--Casey hurried through the halls and into her sister’s room, a small, potted fern in her hands. Derek had insisted she stop bringing plants to the hospital, but she couldn’t help it. They made Lizzie happy… if you ignored that half of them were dying.</p><p>It was the thought that counted!</p><p>Probably.</p><p>She pushed open the door to Lizzie’s room, pausing when she was greeted by strong earthy and floral scents. In the months that she’d been coming to visit Lizzie, the only scent in the room had been one strongly associated with hospitals, a clinical smell that met at the intersection of old people and antiseptic. Even yesterday, her room had only smelled faintly of plants. “Lizzie?”</p><p>Nothing happened, and Casey pushed into the room. It was difficult at first, and once inside, she understood why. The room was covered in vibrant plant life. The machines, chairs, bed, and walls were draped in leaves, vines, branches, and flowers. As it was, Casey nearly tripped over creeping vines on the floor.</p><p>It took a moment for her to realize that Lizzie’s bed was empty.</p><p>Panic surged through her, and she tore the rest of the way into the room like Lizzie would suddenly appear on the bed. “Liz?”</p><p>Silence. She ducked into the bathroom, despite the door being wide open and the lights off, <em>just in case</em>. Maybe someone had taken her for a test or something. Or perhaps some kind of plant monster had kidnapped her sister. Either way, Casey hurried out into the main hall, stopping by the nurse’s station. “Sorry,” she said, leaning on the counter. “It’s just… is my sister getting testing right now?”</p><p>“Hm?” Dazed, the nurse glanced up at Casey. “Oh, Miss McDonald checked herself out this morning.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Blinking, the nurse nodded. “Yes. She was feeling better and said…” She squinted, frowning. “I can’t really remember what she said, but she signed the paperwork and everything.”</p><p>“Right.” Casey took the paperwork, glancing at the unfamiliar signature. It was Lizzie’s name, but it was so different from how she’d typically sign, and it was unlike her not to call Casey. If she’d been ready to go home, she would have called. <em>She would have said something.</em> So, where had Lizzie gone? Digging out her phone, she dialed the one person who would be able to keep her sane.</p><p>“Hey, sweets. How’s the patient?”</p><p>“Derek, Lizzie is missing.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading. And thank you to RollyPratt for all your encouragement in getting me to the finish line. Happy Holiday, Enx. I hope you enjoyed!</p><p>I will likely be making some modifications to this, and some minor tweaks to the plot, but for now, this is my gift fic as is. Did someone say sequel? Why yes, there is a sequel in the works, I'm so glad you asked.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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